


Seahorses

by poppyfields13, tinzelda



Series: Seahorses [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adoption, BuckyCap - Freeform, Dad Steve, Domestic, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, Past Steve Rogers/Sharon Carter - Freeform, Post-Captain America Civil War - Freeform, past Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields13/pseuds/poppyfields13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: Now that Bucky’s taken over the role of Captain America, Steve feels like it’s finally the time to start a family. Bucky doesn’t know what to feel when Steve breaks the news he’s going to adopt a baby. He wants Steve to be happy, but he’s worried it will affect their friendship. Once Steve becomes a dad though, Bucky can’t help falling in love with the baby. And maybe Steve will finally see Bucky in a different light.





	Seahorses

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Seahorses 海馬](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071888) by [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



  


Steve had to figure out how to tell Bucky. He told himself he was still deciding, but the truth was he had made up his mind. He was going to adopt a baby.

He hadn’t even realized it was something he wanted until he’d mentioned having a family to Sharon—just in passing while they were cleaning up the dinner dishes at her place one evening—and she’d visibly flinched.

“I’m not ready for that,” she’d said with an obviously forced smile.

“No, of course not,” Steve had reassured her. “We haven’t even talked about getting married. I was just thinking out loud.”

But the tension visible in Sharon’s every muscle hadn’t relaxed. Not even a little.

Steve approached and wrapped his arms around her. “Is it really so terrible to think about?”

She let out a frustrated huff. “Do you know how hard it would be to take maternity leave with this job? And I travel so much. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Fair? I don’t care about fair.”

“Since when?”

“I just mean I like the idea of being home a lot.” Steve hugged her tighter and nuzzled at the side of her head. “Fellas didn’t stay home with their kids in the forties, but I think I’d like it.”

“People assume a woman has different priorities once she has kids. That your family comes first.”

That had made Steve pause. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t your family come first, once you had kids? He didn’t argue, but his silence was enough.

“I need to focus on my career right now,” she’d said.

“Peggy managed to do both.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the second the words were out of his mouth. He’d meant it to be an inspiration—Sharon had always looked up to Peggy—but it was understandable that Sharon would resent it. She spent her whole life feeling like she was in her aunt’s shadow. And Steve probably was looking at it all wrong. It _was_ harder for women, even now, to juggle work and family.

That conversation wasn’t the end with Sharon, but it was the beginning of the end. He apologized and he explained, but he couldn’t blame her for finding that comment hard to forgive.

Even after they broke up, Steve couldn’t get the idea out of his head. He wanted a kid. Maybe more than one. His own personal baby boom. That’s what all those guys had done right? Once the war was over they’d wanted to settle down and have a regular life. Steve finally felt like he was done fighting. He’d handed the shield over to Bucky, and now it was time to figure out what regular life might be like.

But even after a few months of thinking about it—after doing tons of research online—Steve wasn’t sure how to break the news to Bucky. How was he going to feel about Steve bringing a baby into their apartment? A baby who would be up crying in the middle of the night. Not to mention all the stuff a baby needed cluttering up the place: toys and strollers and carseats. And what about stinky diapers?

It was a lot to put up with, and the last thing Steve wanted was for Bucky to move out. Things were finally feeling settled: Steve had had a bit of a break, and Bucky had a purpose now. His work as Captain America seemed to be helping him make peace with the past, as much as that was possible. Steve liked having Bucky back. It was just like it used to be when they shared a place back before the war. They each had their own bedroom—and Steve had a studio besides—and they never had to worry about making the rent, but it felt like home in the same way their tiny cold-water flat in Brooklyn had been home, half a lifetime ago. If Bucky wasn’t okay with Steve’s plan . . . it might not change Steve’s mind about adopting, but it would sure make him pause and think about it hell of a lot longer.

Steve waited until Bucky was in a really good mood. He came back from a mission looking tired but satisfied, and while he showered, Steve microwaved some potatoes and broiled a couple of steaks. After they ate, while Bucky was sitting at the table with his last few sips of beer, Steve just blurted it out.

“I want to adopt a baby.”

Bucky stared at Steve, unblinking. Just as Steve was getting ready to say something more, Bucky’s gaze slid to the side. He picked up his beer bottle, leaned back in his chair, and put his feet up on the seat opposite. But he wasn’t really relaxed.

“I thought you and Sharon broke up,” Bucky said slowly.

“We did. I’m doing this on my own.”

Bucky’s posture eased at the words, which was strange once Steve thought about it. It seemed like it was a lot crazier to want to do this kind of thing all alone than with a partner.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Bucky nodded.

“I did a bunch of research. And it can take a long time. There’s a lot of hoops to jump through. It can take _years_ —”

“C’mon, you think they’re gonna make you wait that long? You tell them Captain America wants a kid, I bet they let you cut in line.”

“That’s just it, Buck. I don’t want to get bumped up ahead of people who’ve been waiting a long time. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I’m not Captain America anymore.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“I’ve been looking into private adoption. Open adoption.”

“What’s that?”

“You go to a private agency, and they set it up for you. Match you up with a pregnant mother. She gets to have a say in who gets her baby, and she can have some contact with the adoptive family—however much everybody feels okay with. I figure I could send her an e-mail now and then. Maybe a few pictures a couple times a year. Then later, if the kid wants to meet the birth mother, I’ll already know who it is.”

Bucky nodded again.

“It’s still going to be a while. I have a lot more research to do. I haven’t even figured out which agency I want to use, and then I’m sure there’ll be a ton of paperwork.”

They didn’t talk about it anymore, but Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening.

Once Bucky went to bed, Steve considered getting out the laptop to start figuring out which services to call—he wanted to narrow it down to three top choices and then get a feel for them once he had a real person on the phone—but he wasn’t in the mood.

Bucky’s silence had made him question whether this was really a good idea. What did he know about raising a kid? And was it fair to do it on his own? It was like he was depriving the kid of a mother. He’d thought of this before and managed to convince himself that it was outdated thinking. There were lots of single parents out there. His own mother had done it on her own, and Steve had turned out okay. It was silly to think he couldn’t do just as good a job.

Steve decided he’d look at his list of adoption agencies first thing in the morning, then while he took his daily run, he’d make up his mind about which to call. Having a plan made him relax enough to put it out of his mind for a while, and he settled into bed with a book.

 

❤

It was a long flight home from their latest mission in Europe. Bucky had settled into an alcove in the back of the quinjet, intending to pass out for the entire flight, but Natasha walked up to him, pushed his legs over and sat down. “Penny for your thoughts, Cap?”

“With inflation these days, it’s gonna cost you a lot more than a penny. And don’t call me Cap.”

“I know you think that moniker will always belong to Steve, but he did hand that title to you, you know. I mean, you’re even wearing the uniform. Even if you did . . . gothify it.”

He readjusted himself to less of a slouch, allowing Natasha to sit more comfortably beside him. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.”

Well, he knew that was true. Besides, he wasn’t going to get out of this. She would bug him the whole flight until he told her. “Steve’s going to adopt a baby.”

Her eyes widened. She looked as surprised as he must have when Steve told him. “Wow.”

“I know.”

“What’s the problem? You don’t like kids?”

“It’s not that.” She eyed him suspiciously and he glanced away. “I guess I’m just worried that once he’s busy with a kid, he won’t want me around anymore. Maybe I should just move out.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No. But maybe Steve will want me to.”

“Do you honestly think that after everything Steve did to get you back, that he would just forget about you? I think he’d be devastated if you moved out. He would respect your decision of course, but I _know_ he would be upset.”

That cheered him a little, but he still shrugged and mumbled, “I guess.”

She gave him another appraising look. “Have you thought about dating, Barnes?”

His head jerked in surprise. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Maybe you could use a distraction. I know a lot of girls who’d be interested. You’re hot.”

He shifted in discomfort. “No, thanks.”

“A guy then?”

“What?” Bucky looked around to make sure Clint and Wanda weren’t listening.

Natasha sighed. “So just Steve then?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What gave you that impression?” he said, in the most nonplussed tone he could. She smiled and he knew he’d just given her exactly what she wanted to hear. He cursed under his breath. “Look,” he said, “it doesn’t matter because he’s _never_ shown any interest in me that way. I’ve lived with this practically my whole life, and I’ll continue to live with it. But I’m not ready to date a bunch of people for the hell of it. I’m tired of that. I did it all the time before the war.”

“You don’t want to try and move on?”

“I don’t think I can, Nat. I tried. And I’ve had to deal with worse pain than stupidly being in love with my best friend. I’ve managed this long.”

She gave him a sympathetic look, which he hated. He gave her a sly grin. “And this new hand T’Challa made for me does just fine.” She wrinkled her nose and he laughed, amazed that he’d been able to gross out Natalia Romanova.

 

❤

The package arrived late one afternoon, and Steve tore into it right away. It was amazing how many books were out there about babies and childrearing, and he had pored over the online reviews for a long time before selecting half a dozen books that seemed to be the most popular. It was no substitute for experience, but he figured he had to start somewhere.

As soon as he opened the cover of the first one, it became obvious that it was too soon for this book. He didn’t need to think about the terrible twos yet. But even the books that focused on newborns were daunting. It sounded like there were so many things that could go wrong—feeding problems, sleep problems, behavior problems. And that was before you got to the things that were pretty much out of your control, like teething and colic and fevers.

Steve slumped in his chair and stared at the books spread out over the kitchen table. Maybe reading all of this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he’d just be looking for trouble if he knew what could happen. This wasn’t like a mission, where he could anticipate every possible variation and create a backup plan for each one. But it wouldn’t be any better to go in unprepared.

While he was still alternately peeking into the books and making himself stop reading about yet another calamity, he heard the front door slam shut.

“That you, Buck?”

Bucky appeared in the kitchen door. “Hey.”

“You’re back early.”

His uniform was covered in mud. He must have taken his boots off by the door, but even his socks looked filthy. He wore a slight smile though—the mission must have gone well—and eyed the books in front of Steve.

“Doing a little research?”

“Yeah, I thought it might give me a better idea of what I’m getting myself into.”

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got good instincts.”

“Maybe.” But Steve wasn’t so sure. There was so much he didn’t know. Part of him wanted to talk about it, but he was wary of using up all of Bucky’s patience for the subject. He hadn’t said a word against Steve’s decision to adopt, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it all the time, even though it was practically all Steve could think about.

“C’mon.” Bucky nudged Steve’s shoulder. “Homework time is over. Let’s get a pizza or something. I’m officially off duty for the next three days.”

“Yeah?”

“You call for food and set up a movie. I’m gonna jump in the shower.”

Bucky disappeared down the hall without waiting for an answer.

It was good to get his mind off the books for a while—especially the dire predictions of all the ways parents could screw up their kids. It wasn’t like the baby was ever very far from Steve’s mind, but with Bucky there, it was easier not to worry so much.

They demolished a couple of pizzas while watching Jurassic Park, then Steve carried the plates and empty boxes into the kitchen while Bucky flipped aimlessly through the channels. By the time Steve returned to his seat, Bucky was watching a nature show about coral reefs.

“I thought homework time was over,” Steve teased.

“Shut up. It’s interesting,” Bucky said without looking up. “And who are you to talk? You’re always watching documentaries.”

“Move over, will you?” Steve said, nudging at Bucky’s leg with his knee. “You’re hogging the couch.”

Bucky made a face and scooted over a few millimeters, but he was still sprawled over two thirds of the sofa, so when Steve lifted his own legs up onto the cushion he shoved hard at Bucky’s hip with one foot. Bucky laughed but didn’t move away.

The narrator of the nature program, rather than taking on the droning tone of some documentaries, sounded hugely enthusiastic about the creatures living on the coral reef:

_Seahorses have many adaptations to help them survive, such as their excellent eyesight, with each eye able to work independently—a very useful skill indeed for a creature who hunts by sight and needs to eat thirty to fifty times each day. They subsist largely on small crustacea, like shrimp._

_A seahorse’s prehensile tail allows it to cling to plants to avoid being swept away by strong ocean currents. This is especially helpful given that the seahorse is not a strong swimmer, relying on its dorsal fin alone to propel it through the water._

Feeling sleepy, Steve slouched lower on the pillow behind him, situating his shoulders more comfortably. It meant his legs intruded further into Bucky’s space, but Bucky was taking more than his half of the middle anyway.

_The seahorse has a remarkable ability to alter its appearance for camouflage. Watch as this one quickly changes color to match its surroundings. Seahorses have even been known to turn bright red to match floating debris. Both males and females change color often during their lengthy courtship rituals._

Bucky laughed. “That’s just like you—turning bright red during your lengthy courtship rituals.”

Steve tried to kick Bucky in retaliation for that remark, but their legs had gotten tangled together as they’d relaxed deeper into the sofa, and it seemed like too much effort to extricate a foot.

_Perhaps the seahorse’s most unusual adaptation involves reproduction. The seahorse is the only species where the male becomes pregnant. The female deposits her eggs into the male’s pouch, where the developing seahorses will get everything they need, from oxygen to food._

“That’s like you too. You’re a seahorse,” Bucky said, smiling. “You’re a seahorse dad, taking over.”

_Then the dutiful father gives birth to anywhere from fifty to a hundred babies for smaller species and sometimes more than fifteen hundred for the larger species._

The screen showed a video of a seahorse spewing out a stream of tiny babies from a bulge in his stomach. It was kind of amazing and kind of horrifying.

_Gestation time varies from a couple of weeks to a month, and labor can last up to twelve hours._

“Wow.” Bucky stared at the television. “At least you don’t have to do _that_.”

Even if the metaphor wasn’t completely accurate—which was a relief when watching the exhausted father seahorse drifting down to settle on the bottom of his tank to recover—Steve was pleased that Bucky’d made the connection. It meant he was thinking about the baby too. He’d accepted that it was going to happen. And the fact that he could tease Steve about it a little meant that he was on board—at least as much as he needed to be.

 

❤

Steve hurried to wipe the dish soap off his hands. It was the adoption agency, probably returning the call he’d made earlier that day to check that they’d received all his paperwork. He grabbed the phone and swiped the icon to answer. “Hello?”

“Captain Rogers? This is Melissa.”

“Thanks for returning my call. I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need. I filled out all the forms online last night.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. If there’s anything missing I’ll let you know, but that’s not actually why I’m calling.”

“It’s not?”

“I have some good news.” She let out a breathy little laugh. “Some potentially very _exciting_ news.”

Steve froze. Had they found a match? An expectant mother who wanted to give him her baby?

“We’ve had an arrangement fall through. It’s unfortunate when that happens, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. This time, the adoptive family found out they’re pregnant, so we are looking for another family.”

She paused, and Steve knew he should say something.

“Captain Rogers?”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m here. That’s—that’s,” Steve ran a hand through his hair and tried to get a grip on himself. “You think I might be a good match?”

“We hope so,” Melissa said. “You seemed very eager—and very prepared, I might add. Not every family is ready to get started so soon. Because the other arrangement fell through, you’re not getting as much notice as usual. The baby is due in seven weeks.”

Seven weeks. Less than two months.

“Captain Rogers?”

“Yes, I’m—wow. Seven weeks? I could have a baby in seven weeks?”

She laughed. “It could be a little longer. First babies don’t always stick to the schedule, but yes, the due date is January. Do you think that could work for you?”

“Yes! I—wow. I can be ready. Wow.”

“What you’re looking for in terms of the open adoption lines up almost exactly with what the birth mother wants—occasional phone contact, e-mail, photos a few times a year—nothing intrusive—and the possibility of meeting once the child is older.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “That sounds good.” But he wasn’t able to focus on her words. “What do I—I mean, what happens next?”

“If you’re interested, we’d like to have you come in and meet with the birth mother. I haven’t mentioned this to her yet. I wanted to speak to you first. I admit that having the first arrangement fall through has made her a little anxious, especially with so little time before her due date. But I’m sure once she finds out _you’re_ the prospective parent, she’ll be thrilled. Once she’s on board, we’d like to get you two together to talk it over.”

“Okay. I can come in anytime.”

“I’ll call Ashley to set up a meeting.”

“Great. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll be in touch soon. Oh, and I almost forgot: it’s a girl.”

Steve was struck speechless. He hadn’t thought much about whether it would be a boy or a girl, but when he imagined a baby, it was usually a girl that came to mind. He’d already decided that if it was a girl, he’d name her after his mother.

He barely listened to the rest of the conversation, and once Melissa hung up, he stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring at his phone.

A baby. A little girl. In seven weeks. Maybe more, but maybe _less_. He didn’t have the baby’s room set up yet. He didn’t even have a crib.

Steve shoved the phone in the pocket of his jeans as he strode down the hall to his studio. It was kind of mess: paintings leaning against the wall, sketches scattered over the big table in the corner, and a dropcloth, stiff with drips of paint, spread over the floor under the windows. He had never completely unpacked his supplies after they’d moved in, so there were a lot of half-open boxes he’d rooted through to find what he needed, but tidying those up wouldn’t take much time.

He got to work right away, moving the canvases and the boxes to stack in the walk-in closet in his bedroom—he didn’t have enough clothes to fill it anyway. Once those were gone, he unscrewed the legs from the worktable and carried the pieces down to the storage space in the basement.

Steve looked around the room as he folded up the old dropcloth. Getting rid of the clutter made the room seem huge, but also boring as hell. The walls were painted a placid blue, with white curtains at the windows. Steve planned to put the crib against the wall that butted up against his room, hoping that he would hear the baby’s cries more than Bucky on the far side. He’d also need to get a dresser, but he’d decided not to bother with a changing table. Why buy a piece of furniture to take up space when the baby would outgrow the need for it in just a couple of years? Maybe a bookshelf would be a good idea, for storing toys as well as books.

Even with furniture, the room would be dull. The books said babies needed color and pattern to stimulate their development. Maybe he could paint a mural? He could even stretch the picture up onto the ceiling so the baby could look at it from her crib before she was able to roll over on her own.

 _Her_. A little girl. Sarah Rogers.

Steve pushed aside his excitement and his fear and spread out the dropcloth he’d just folded. There was a lot to do and not much time before little Sarah would arrive.

 

❤

Several hours passed before the rumbling of Steve’s stomach pulled him away from the mural. He’d gotten a good start, concentrating most of the picture on the wall where the crib would be, but letting some details creep onto the ceiling, over and under the windows to the left, and even onto the closet door on the right.

He’d sketched out a general plan, but mostly he was just winging it—seaweed fronds taller than he was, a forest of coral, and sand all along the baseboards. Now came the fun part: it was time to add creatures to the reef. Most importantly, seahorses.

Steve threw some leftover Chinese food in the microwave, then went to grab his laptop. He could sift through images online while he ate to find some good pictures to work from. He wanted the mural to be fun—cute, and a little cartoonish—but he still wanted to get the proportions right.

As he scooped up a forkful of rice, he found himself reading the caption under one of the photos. He’d been so happy when Bucky’d made the connection about seahorses being good dads that he’d stopped listening to the show’s voiceover, but now he learned that once the babies were born, the parents did nothing at all to take care of them. Still, the coral reef would make for a colorful mural. That was more important than taking the metaphor literally.

Curious, Steve kept reading. The text went on to describe seahorses, as “romantic.” He let out a snort—that was hardly a word anyone would apply to him. But it turned out they were called that because they had a really slow courtship, spiraling around one another. It could take hours. Okay, maybe that _was_ actually a little like him—he’d never moved fast with a romance in his life.

After shoveling in his last few bites, he left the plate in the sink, eager to get back to work. He carried the computer with him for reference, but he had studied the picture enough that the first couple of seahorses came quickly. First a daddy seahorse in bright blue with clean white fins, then a smaller, chubbier baby. He almost used pink for the little one, but some of the books he’d read talked about the negative consequences of enforcing stereotypical gender roles, so he opted for red instead. The two seahorses floated side by side, their tails coiled around neighboring strands of seaweed. He centered them on the wall, high enough that they wouldn’t be hidden once he got the baby’s crib and set it up.

After a moment’s hesitation—he still had a secret worry that Bucky would get sick of a noisy, stinky baby and want to move out—Steve added a Bucky seahorse, on the other side of the baby, using a rich slightly blue-ish gray that would look almost metallic once Steve added some highlights. It ended up taking him a lot longer to paint this one than the other two, shaping the seahorse’s armor-like plates to look like the interlocking panels of Bucky’s arm. When he was done, he stood back to look at it before adding a tiny white star on its chest.

art by [CapCarterandSarge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapCarterandSarge/pseuds/CapCarterandSarge)

The next day he went back to the computer to find pictures of other animals to add, but after a few minutes of clicking through images, he turned off the computer and ignored it. It was more fun to let himself invent bright patterns for the other fish than to try to match realistic species. He also tucked sea anemones and crabs along the sandy ocean floor and tiny shrimp peeking out of the kelp. Before adding a shark he paused—he didn’t want anything that might seem scary on the walls of the baby’s bedroom—and decided on a big spotted manta ray instead. He was finishing up the trailing line of the ray’s tail when he heard the front door slam.

“Steve?”

“In here, Buck.” Steve turned around so he could see Bucky’s face when he first noticed the mural, standing on purpose right in front of the Bucky seahorse so it could be a surprise.

Bucky’s voice came from way down the hall. “Why is it all dark out here?”

“I’ve been in the nursery all day,” Steve called back.

“The nursery?”

“Formerly known as my studio.”

Bucky appeared in the doorway. His eyebrows went up. “Wow. This looks . . . different.”

“Yeah, what do you think?” Steve waved one hand at the painting behind him.

Bucky walked slowly into the room, a smile growing on his face as his eyes ranged all over the mural. “Seahorses,” he said happily.

“Yeah,” Steve said, stepping away to reveal the metallic one with the white star on its chest. “A whole family of them.”

Though Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve could tell he was pleased. He approached and studied the details.

“I looked at some pictures online to make them look sort of realistic,” Steve said, “and I found out after the male seahorse pushes the babies out, he doesn’t really do anything to take care of them, but to be fair, there could be over a thousand of them. And I figure the metaphor still works.”

“I’m glad you’re not getting a thousand.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But I’ve got less time than I thought to get ready.”

Bucky turned his head to look at Steve. “What do you mean?”

“I got a telephone call yesterday.” Steve couldn’t keep a goofy smile off his face. “They found a match. Well, maybe. The mother was matched with another family, but the adoptive mother got pregnant so now they don’t want this baby. My baby. It’s due in seven weeks.”

“Wow, that’s soon. That’s really soon.”

“Why do you think I’ve been in here all day?” Steve turned and surveyed the mural. “I think it’s almost done now though.”

“I think it needs a turtle.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, I can add a turtle.” Reaching for the tube of green paint, he looked at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “You working tomorrow?”

“Hmm?” Bucky was distracted, looking at his seahorse again. “No, not till Thursday. Unless something comes up.”

“Want to go to go Target with me tomorrow? I need to get a crib. And a dresser. And some clothes. And probably a bunch of other stuff.” Steve had thought he would have months to prepare, but now it seemed like there was no way he’d be able to get everything ready in time. “I could probably use some help getting everything in the car.”

Bucky gave Steve sidelong look. When he answered, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” But he was smiling a little, so Steve knew he didn’t really mind.

 

❤

Bucky felt dread wash over him as they walked across the parking lot to the towards the giant red bullseye. Shopping wasn’t his favorite thing to do under normal circumstances—it was always so crowded—but shopping for baby stuff? It didn’t sound fun. But he’d do just about anything for Steve, so there he was. He just hoped Steve had a clear idea of what he wanted so they could get out of there as soon as possible.

He grabbed a cart and Steve walked along beside him for a moment before running back and getting his own cart. “We might need two,” he said. “I need to get a lot of stuff.” Bucky tried to keep the horror he felt from showing on his face.

They pushed the carts towards the baby section and the first thing they found was the clothing. “Look at all this,” Steve said. “I don’t know where to start.” Bucky followed as Steve wandered around aimlessly for a while until he stopped in front of a rack of tiny dresses. He picked one up and a faraway look took over his face. “Look at this. It’s adorable.”

Bucky was pretty sure he’d never heard Steve use the word ‘adorable’ before in his life, but he supposed the dress was pretty cute as far as baby clothes went. It was also very feminine. “I thought you said you weren’t going to enforce gender roles onto your child. Shouldn’t we be looking at the T-shirts or something?”

Steve looked thoughtfully at the dress in his hands, his mouth twisting in a way Bucky knew meant he was reluctant to put it back. “Maybe I could just get a few dresses.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m not stopping you. You’re the parent.”

Steve gave him a surprised look. “Parent. You’re right. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

Bucky couldn’t believe it either. Maybe this was his last outing with Steve alone. Soon a baby would be all Steve would be interested in. He tried not to frown. It was hard anyway when Steve looked so excited. He gave him a fond smile. “You’ll be great at it, Steve. And I really don’t think a few dresses are going to hurt.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Just a few.” He then proceeded to load up his cart with dress after dress.

“Oh, this one’s sweet too.” He held up a dress with a strawberry print all over it.

“Maybe you should get a bigger size. It might be too cold for her to wear that right away,” Bucky said.

“Good point. Okay. What else do I need? Oh, a snowsuit.”

Bucky watched as Steve walked through the entire clothing section. It felt like he inspected every single piece before he was done, and even then he wasn’t completely satisfied. “I feel like I’m missing something,” he said.

“Firstly, how?” Bucky said. “And secondly, you’ll have time to come back. It isn’t a big deal.”

“Okay, let’s go look at the furniture. Oh, and I need things like diapers and baby formula and bottles. . . .” He continued to list off a myriad of items completely foreign to Bucky’s vocabulary until he started zoning out. How could one little baby need so much stuff? He and Steve never had so much stuff, not as kids, and certainly not as babies. Hell, they didn’t even have as much furniture in their shitty apartment when they’d first moved in together back in the thirties.

He tried to offer Steve advice when he asked him: which crib did he think was better, and which dresser went more with the room? And did it go with the crib? Maybe he should get the other crib instead?

On their way out he made Steve stop so they could go to the Starbucks near the entrance, though what he really needed was something stronger than coffee.

“Thanks for coming with me, Buck,” Steve said as they loaded stuff into the car.

“I don’t think I helped very much,” Bucky said.

“No, you did. You were a big help. Thank you.”

Bucky still didn’t really believe it, but Steve seemed happy. Really happy. And that was the most important thing.

 

❤

The phone caught Steve just before he pulled the motorcycle out of his parking spot, so he shut off the engine and pulled the phone out of his pocket. Usually when he was out, he didn’t bother answering, unless it was Bucky, but when Ashley’s number came up, Steve poked at the screen right away.

There was no sound.

“Ashley?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she panted out. “Contraction.”

“Contraction?” Steve said. “Could it be false labor?” There’d been lots about that in his books—even if that wasn’t exactly his department, he’d read everything he could get his hands on. In fact, he’d just been at the library picking up a few more books.

“No, this is definitely not— _ah!_ ”

A spike of panic hit Steve’s belly, but it didn’t take long to fight it down. It was replaced by a thrumming excitement.

“ _Whew_.” Ashley let out a sigh. “That was a big one. Definitely _not_ false labor.”

It was time. It was happening _right now_.

“I know I was supposed to call the agency and let Melissa contact you, but—”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve said. “I’m glad. Are you feeling okay?”

“Right now? I’m fine. Don’t ask when another contraction rolls around.”

She laughed, but Steve could hear the nervousness in it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“You’re coming to the hospital, right?”

“Yes, I’ll meet you there. Unless you want—” Steve hesitated. “Unless you want me to come get you.” He was on his bike, but he could call a cab to meet him at her apartment. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to get involved like that, but she sounded so young on the phone, and more than a little scared, so he wasn’t going to just let her make her own way if she needed help.

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

Panic struck again. Did she think he was coming into the delivery room? He knew fathers did that now, but it was different when it was your wife or girlfriend. He didn’t want to be in the room when Ashley was giving birth. He might see things he’d rather not see.

“Did you want me to—? I mean, I wasn’t planning to come in the _room_.”

She laughed again, breathy this time—maybe another contraction. “Just come in to say hi. Then you can wait in the waiting room. It’ll make it easier knowing you’re just down the hall, ready to take over once I squeeze this kid out.”

Relieved, Steve laughed too. But when he got to her room, she looked so desperate. Her face was pale and strained, and she was all alone. He didn’t mean to linger, but when a contraction came, she groaned and grabbed his hand. He would have felt like a heel if he’d run away and left her like that, so he stayed through the whole thing.

At first, he tried to offer encouraging words, but she’d given him a pained smile and said, “You don’t have to do that.” So after that, he just let her grip his hand as tight as she needed and handed her water whenever she asked for it. He just made sure to stay at her side, never looking at whatever the nurses were doing down there.

When the contractions started coming one right after the other, with barely a break in between, Ashley looked at Steve, still breathing heavily from the last bout. “I asked them to take her away, as soon as she’s born. I think—”

She broke off, her voice choked off by emotion, and Steve wrapped both hands around hers.

“I think it’ll be easier,” she continued. “You know, if I don’t really see her.”

It made Steve sad, but he couldn’t argue with her reasoning. He nodded, then grimaced as Ashley’s fingers clamped down on his like a vise as another contraction hit. “Holy shit!”

Once the pain passed, she peeked at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to curse like that.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve gave her hand a playful jiggle. “I was in the army. I’ve heard it all. You can say whatever you fucking well please.”

Ashley’s laugh was cut off by another contraction.

The doctor showed up soon after that. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw Steve in the room, but she didn’t comment. Her brusque efficiency made Steve feel a little like he was in the way, but it seemed like Ashley could read his mind: the moment he started to think of a polite way to say, _Well, with the doctor here, maybe I should wait outside_ , she gave him a fierce look and tugged on his hand.

“Don’t you want to be here? What if someday she ask about when she was born? You gonna tell her you were down the hall?”

She was right, and even the thought of sharing memories like that made Steve break out in a smile.

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re worse than my mother. Do you cry at Hallmark commercials?”

Steve laughed, wondering why he didn’t feel awkward around Ashley. He could joke around with her—maybe because she’d never tried to flirt with him. Maybe because there was something way more important going on.

She winced, and Steve broke his own rule, looking toward the foot of the bed. Ashley’s legs were propped up in stirrups—thank goodness they had a drape over her knees—and the doctor was peering down intently.

“I think we’re just about ready to start pushing,” the doctor said, and Ashley looked at Steve, clearly struggling to stay calm.

It seemed to go on forever. Ashley pushed and strained, and Steve got more and more worried when nothing happened. His concern must have been written all over his face, because Ashley let go of his hand to punch his shoulder.

“Will you cut it out?” she said. “First babies take a long time.”

Steve had read that, of course, but it was easy to forget as the afternoon wore on.

The doctor interrupted. “Okay, give me a really big push now.”

Ashley strained until her face turned bright red, letting out a noise that sounded more like a battle cry than a cry of pain.

“Good!” the doctor said, encouraging her. “Real good. One more like that, and we’ll get the shoulders out too.”

 _Shoulders?_ That meant the baby’s head was already out. Steve sort of wanted to look, but he couldn’t do it. Even if he could have let go of Ashley’s hand, which was doubtful considering her death grip, he didn’t want to abandon her.

She let out another aggressive yell as she gave a second really hard push, and the doctor smiled up at Steve. “It’s a boy.”

Steve stared. “What?”

Ashley had fallen back on the bed after her last huge effort, but hearing this, she lifted her head. “A boy?”

The nurses were already wrapping the baby up and taking him out of the room, and Steve hadn’t even seen him. He took a few stumbling steps toward the door before turning back to look at Ashley. She was limp with exhaustion and relief, her damp hair curling at her temples.

“It’s okay.” Her voice was raspy. “Go with him.” There were tears in her eyes, and Steve hesitated. She let out a frustrated huff. “Go on. I’m fine.”

Steve dashed out into the hall and looked around frantically until he spotted the nurse’s bright pink scrubs. He hurried after her, catching up just as she turned into a room that looked more like a laboratory than a nursery, though there were at least a dozen empty plastic bassinets on little carts with wheels.

The nurse smiled when she saw Steve. “I’m sorry to run out on you like that, but Ashley specifically asked us to—”

“She told me,” Steve said. He gestured awkwardly at the baby. “Can I—?”

Her smile grew broader. “Of course!”

Steve held out his arms, and the nurse carefully settled the blanket-wrapped bundle into them. The baby weighed next to nothing. Steve looked down at his little crumpled, red face, and a hurricane of feeling stirred up his gut. “Can I sit down?”

“Gosh, I’m sorry. I should have offered. This is overwhelming. Come on.”

She led him into the next room. Steve walked slowly, tearing his eyes away from the baby’s face to look where he was going. There was a rocking chair in the corner. The cushion on it had a plastic cover, but Steve sank down onto it gratefully and shifted his arms into a more comfortable position. The movement was enough to wake the baby, and he wiggled around inside the blanket before drifting off again. Steve watched, rapt.

“Do you want a few minutes alone with him?” the nurse asked quietly. “I could—”

“No!” Steve said quickly. “Uh, no, that’s okay. I think I can use all the help I can get.”

“No, you’re doing great. Have you done this before?”

Steve thought of holding Bucky’s sisters, a lifetime ago. “Not for a really long time.” He wanted to peel back the blanket and see every inch of the baby—his tiny arms and legs—but didn’t want him to feel chilled. “He’s so _small_.”

“Actually he’s pretty big. We’ll weigh him soon and get an exact number. And give him a bath! But I bet he’s over eight pounds. Maybe it’s a good thing he decided to make his debut a little early, or the labor might have been a little tougher.”

Tougher? It had seemed plenty tough to Steve.

Gazing down at the baby, Steve was surprised that he felt like a stranger. Was that just because he’d been expecting a girl?

“Hey, pal,” Steve whispered. “Nice to meet you. I’m your dad.” The words brought another tidal wave of emotions. Maybe he should have let the nurse leave when she’d offered, because he might start bawling any minute.

“What’s this little guy’s name?”

Steve hadn’t even realized he’d started the chair rocking, but now he froze, startled out of his happy daze. “I don’t know. We thought it was a girl, so I didn’t come up with any boy names.”

“It’s okay,” the nurse said. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

Before Steve had a chance to consider the matter, the blanket felt suddenly wet and hot against his hand. The nurse had rushed the baby out of the room so quickly that she hadn’t even put a diaper on him, and now the blanket and Steve’s fingers were soaked.

Steve rose carefully, hoping his shirt wouldn’t get all wet. “Uh, I think we need a change here.”

“Oh?” The nurse’s eyes went wide. “Oh! I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“Come on.” She turned and headed back toward the laboratory-type room. “If we’ve gotta clean him up, let’s do it right. We’ll weigh him too. He might yell a little about that, but then we can snuggle him up and give him something to eat.”

After the scale—eight pounds, seven ounces—Steve thought the nurse would clean up the baby, but instead she talked Steve through it. “You gotta start getting used to it,” she teased. It was harder than Steve would have thought to keep hold of that tiny little body, especially once his skin was damp, but he liked seeing the baby’s sturdy kicks and the way he waved his arms around, even if the whole time he was screaming indignantly at being washed.

His cries quieted some as Steve managed to stick a diaper on him and wrapped him up in a clean blanket and faded to whimpers by the time Steve pulled an almost laughably small knit hat over the blond peach fuzz on top of his head. Then he went silent when the nurse brought a tiny bottle and got them settled back into the rocking chair for his first meal.

Steve watched, spellbound, as the baby sucked greedily at the rubbery nipple. Every part of him was in motion: eyelashes fluttering, fingers opening and closing, and legs shifting inside the blanket. After he drained the bottle and fell asleep, he was just as fascinating. His mouth pursed and sucked, even after Steve set the bottle aside. His eyes moved under the delicate skin of his eyelids. His hands had a perfect dimple over each knuckle.

Some bittersweetness crept in. He thought of his mother. She probably never thought she’d be a grandmother. Even Steve, stubborn as he’d been when someone told him he couldn’t do something, had been afraid he’d never be healthy enough to have kids. Then for a moment he thought of Peggy—the first time he’d allowed himself to imagine doing this, he thought he’d share this moment with her.

But even those thoughts weren’t enough to ruin Steve’s mood. He was thrilled. Happy as could be. And already the baby was snuggled up against Steve’s chest like he knew that was where he belonged.

 

❤

Bucky answered the phone with a sound alarmingly close to a growl. “Where the hell are you? I’m starving.”

“You’ll have to make dinner on your own, Buck. Sorry, but—”

“Where are you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Steve said with a laugh. “I’m at the hospital. The baby came a little early.”

There was a long silence on the phone.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s voice sounded different now, his hunger forgotten.

Steve’s heart swelled with happiness. “It’s a boy.”

“What? A boy?” Bucky laughed. “I thought the sonar pictures said it was a girl.”

“I guess they missed something.”

“Missed it? The poor kid. . . .”

“No, Buck, he’s perfect. He’s so small you won’t believe it. At least he seems small—as babies go, he’s apparently pretty big. I held him and fed him. And changed his diaper.”

Bucky made a humming sound in Steve’s ear. “So how bad was it?”

“It was nothing. Not bad at all. Just wet.”

“No, I mean how small was it? If they missed it. . . .”

“Jeez, Buck.” Steve fought it, but a stupid-sounding giggle escaped before he could stop it. “Cut it out, will you? I don’t want to talk about my son’s dick.”

Steve didn’t want to remember _this_ as the context when he first referred to his son out loud. But maybe it wasn’t so bad. There were far worse memories than joking around with Bucky.

After a pause, Bucky said, “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. He’s really amazing. Wait’ll you see him.”

“I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Steve looked at his watch. The nurse had taken the baby for tests—just standard stuff—more than fifteen minutes ago. Shouldn’t they be back by now? “Anyway I was on my bike when they called me. So can you come pick us up? At the hospital, I mean.”

“Now?”

“No, tomorrow. They want him to stay overnight.”

“I guess so. What time?”

“I don’t know. Can you call me in the morning?”

There was a long pause, and Steve wondered if this was asking too much. After all, Bucky hadn’t volunteered for any of this.

Finally, Bucky answered. “Okay.”

“There’s a diaper bag in the closet. I meant to pack it, but with the baby coming early—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said. “I’ll put some stuff in there.”

“And bring the car seat.”

“Okay. That it?”

“I think so. Hey, they’re back.”

“Who’s back?”

“The nurse and the baby.” Steve walked down the hall to meet them. The nurse smiled at him, but the baby was sound asleep in the bassinet. He probably hadn’t even noticed that Steve hadn’t been there. Maybe it was too soon for him to recognize his dad anyway.

“Hey, what’s his name?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. It was so easy to pick Sarah, but now I have no idea what to call him.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” Steve tilted the phone away from his mouth and leaned over the baby to whisper, “Hey, pal. I hope that test wasn’t too bad. I’m talking to Bucky. You’ll like him. He’s going to be around a lot because he lives with us.”

In Steve’s ear, Bucky was snickering. “Are you talking to the baby?”

“Yeah, so what? You’re supposed to talk to babies. How else would they learn to talk?”

“You sound like a tour guide.”

“Give me a break,” Steve said. “I’m new at this.”

 

❤

The next morning, one of the nurses brought a message from Ashley, asking Steve to come and talk with her. It made Steve anxious. What if she’d changed her mind?

The second he walked in the room, Ashley rolled her eyes. “You can relax.”

“What?”

“It’s written all over your face,” she said. “You’re terrified. I’m not going to take him back. I promise. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t, believe me—we already signed all those papers last night. He’s all yours.”

Ashley stared out the window for a long time. Steve hovered at the foot of the bed. He didn’t want to seem impatient, but he was already eager to get back to the baby.

When Ashley finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “I didn’t see him.”

“Do you—?” Steve was afraid to offer. If she saw him, she’d change her mind for sure. His scrunched-up little face. His tiny, perfect fingers. “I know you thought that would be better. But do you want to see him?”

Immediately she shook her head, her mouth pressed into a hard line. “I just want to know he’s okay. That he’s—” She broke off, shaking her head again.

“He’s perfect.” A flood of emotion washed over Steve. The feelings kept coming, but they were getting less complicated as worry gave way to adoration. “He’s absolutely perfect.”

She nodded, staring down at her lap.

Steve had promised himself he was going to be better about not stifling his emotions—talking things over, for the baby’s sake. He had to get used to talking about how he _felt_ , not just what he thought.

He approached the side of her bed, where he’d stood for hours while she’d been in labor. Then he took her hand, and she looked up at him in surprise.

“I won’t tell you not to worry about him,” Steve said, “because I’m sure you will. And I can’t promise to be perfect. But I will do the absolute best for him that I can. I’ll take really good care of him. I promise.”

She was obviously fighting back tears, and Steve squeezed her hand tightly.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “I can’t thank you enough for giving him to me.”

 

❤

Bucky peered at the photo of the baby Steve had sent him on his phone. Bucky didn’t think he was much to look at. All pink and wrinkly. But he was kind of cute in the way all babies are kind of cute—just because they’re babies and they’re tiny. Bucky didn’t want anyone—especially Steve—to know, but he actually kind of liked babies. He remembered being around them a lot as a kid. Those memories were still kind of vague, but there were definitely babies in them.

But he wasn’t sure how he felt about this baby. He wasn’t sure if he resented him for coming into Steve’s life and becoming the focus of it. A part of him thought it might be easier if he did feel that way. At least he would be able to identify what it was that made him feel so uneasy. But this had obviously made Steve very happy, and Bucky couldn’t be upset about that. It was what he’d always wanted for Steve.

He’d been putting it off, but he had to pick up Steve soon, so he walked into the nursery to get the baby’s bag ready. He grabbed it from inside the closet and opened it up. It already had a few items inside, but Steve had sent him a list of things he needed Bucky to bring.

He rifled through the drawers of the dresser. They were overstuffed with clothes from their trip to Target, but apparently Steve had bought everything in various shades of pink and purple. Bucky dug through and grabbed something in the bluest purple he could find, and a couple of things that were yellow. He knew the baby wouldn’t need that many clothes just to come home in, but at least Steve would have a choice. However, the one snowsuit Steve had bought was a metallic fuchsia, so he shrugged and shoved it into the bag as well.

He tried not to give their apartment a woeful look as he left. He hadn’t even been able to fully enjoy his last moments with Steve without a baby around, because he hadn’t known they were his last. He thought back to the previous morning where he’d grunted goodbye to Steve on his way out the door. Maybe it was better he hadn’t known or he might have felt compelled to say something meaningful and, ultimately, stupid.

He took the baby bag and car seat down to their apartment parking lot and got in the car. He sat there without turning it on. He shook his head and felt slightly ashamed of himself for finding this so difficult. And the last thing he wanted was for Steve to see it on his face. He took a deep breath and started the car.

When he got to the hospital he sent Steve a text: _I’m here. Where do I go?_

Steve replied only a few seconds later. _Maternity ward. I’ll meet you out in the hallway._

As Bucky approached the maternity ward he suddenly felt his heart start racing. It was really hitting him. He was nervous to see Steve, as if he was somehow going to be a completely different person now. And he was nervous to see the baby. It seemed ridiculous to feel nervous about meeting a day-old baby, but he was.

He saw Steve as soon as he pushed the swinging door open. Steve turned and smiled.

“Hey,” Bucky said, as casually as he could.

“Buck.” Steve strode over and gave him a hug. Bucky hugged him back. He breathed in, like he always did. Steve obviously hadn’t showered that day, but he still smelled good to Bucky. He pulled away, scared if he didn’t he might not let go.

“So, where is the little guy?” he said. He gave Steve a sly look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up again.”

Steve continued smiling as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. He gestured behind him with his thumb. “Down there. He’s asleep right now.” Bucky followed him down the hall and Steve poked his head in the doorway of one of the rooms. “Uh, my ride’s here,” he said quietly to a nurse.

She smiled at him. “Home time then,” she said.

Bucky watched as they walked to the only occupied plastic bassinet and Steve carefully picked the baby up. Bucky felt the nervous feeling in his stomach erupt even more. Steve bought him over to show Bucky. “Here he is.” Bucky wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say as he stared down at the squashed little face, but Steve didn’t seem to expect anything. He just gazed at the baby lovingly. He reminded Bucky of a cartoon with hearts popping out of his eyes.

Steve moved over to a changing area where the nurse was waiting. He laid the baby down and turned to Bucky. “You brought the clothes?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky handed over the forgotten bag he’d been gripping in his hand.

Steve opened it and started pulling stuff out. “Oh no,” he said.

“What? Did I forget something?”

“I completely forgot. I didn’t buy any boys clothes. It’s all pink!” He pulled the pink snowsuit out looking appalled. “Why did I buy this in pink?”

Bucky laughed, but Steve frantically kept pulling things out of the bag—the yellow onesie with rainbows, the purple shirt with unicorns. “Oh no,” he said again.

Bucky glanced at the nurse whose smile was fading. “Come on, Steve. What happened to the guy who didn’t want to force gender roles on their kid?”

“Huh?” Steve said, looking up.

“He’s a baby. He doesn’t know what he’s wearing.”

“But everyone else will think he’s a girl.”

“Everyone? He’s only going home in it. You can buy another snowsuit later if it bothers you so much.”

Steve shook his head. “Right, of course. I just, I don’t know. Sorry. I just thought I was prepared, and then he came early, and I don’t have everything I need and. . . .” He trailed off, looking a little helpless.

Bucky felt bad for him. And a little relieved that he wasn’t the only one feeling not quite ready for this. Actually, it helped him move past his own confused feelings for a moment, because he had Steve to worry about instead. “I can go out and get whatever you need this afternoon.”

“Really? I don’t want you to have to spend your day doing things for me.”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky gave him a look.

Steve smiled. “Okay. Thank you, Buck.” He turned back to the baby and started dressing him. The nurse smiled gratefully at Bucky.

“I think that color suits him,” Bucky said when the baby was all wrapped up in the pink snowsuit. “It matches the color of his face.”

By the time they were ready to leave it had actually started lightly snowing. Bucky told Steve to wait while he ran across the parking lot to get the car. He pulled up to the curb and Steve got into the backseat. He waited while Steve made sure he’d fastened the car seat in correctly. “Okay, I think we’re ready,” he said.

“You sure? We’re not in any rush.”

“I’m sure,” he said with typical Steve determination. He looked down at the baby and said, “We’re going home.”

They were both quiet the first few minutes of the car ride, and the baby didn’t make a sound. Bucky glanced at Steve in the rear view mirror. His eyes didn’t leave the baby for a second. “Are you really upset?” Bucky asked.

“What?” He looked up.

“About not getting a girl. You can tell me.”

“Oh.” He stared back down at the baby and smiled. “No. I’m happy. I love him already. So much.” There was a distinct tremble in his voice, as if he was trying to hold back tears. Bucky nodded but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t think Steve would even hear him if he did anyway.

When they were back at their apartment building Bucky took the baby bag so Steve would only have to carry the car seat up. They took the elevator up to their floor, and Bucky followed as Steve walked cautiously down the hallway, as if he was concerned the slightest movement might disturb the baby from his sleep.

Once they were in their apartment, Steve headed straight for the couch. He put the car seat down and unbuckled the baby. He sat down and laid the baby on his knees while he took him out of the snowsuit.

“Do you want some coffee or something?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, without looking up. He was too fascinated by the baby in his arms. Bucky hovered around, not sure what to do. It was silly, but he felt dejected. Like from now on Steve was going to ignore him. He was about to go to his room but Steve spoke. “Bucky, come sit with us.”

He hesitated, but it was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He walked over and slowly sat down.

Steve looked up. “Do you want to hold him?”

His nervousness returned. “Me?”

Steve chuckled. “Of course you. Who else is here?”

The arm T’Challa had made him was light and more comfortable than his old one. It was sensitive. But it was also very powerful. He could do dangerous things with it. A baby was the most fragile thing he could handle, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to try it. He looked down at his hand and mumbled, “What if I hurt him?”

“I trust you,” Steve said.

Bucky remembered holding babies before, but that was almost a hundred years ago. He shook his head but Steve gave him such a sincere look, almost like he _needed_ Bucky to bond with the baby. He realized then that his worries Steve would neglect him somehow because he had a baby were unfounded. Even if he’d never said it, it was obvious to Bucky now: Steve wanted to share this experience with him, not exclude him. “Come on, Buck,” he urged.

Bucky held his arms out and Steve carefully handed the sleeping baby over. He was so small and delicate. He’d only been out in the world for two days and now he was in Bucky’s arms. It was a strange feeling, and he understood why Steve kept staring at him with such wonder on his face. The baby had remained sound asleep throughout the exchange. He didn’t care that it was Bucky holding him now. He didn’t think Bucky was not deserving of holding him. He was completely innocent, and free of judgement.

“Wow, he really is tiny,” he whispered. He nudged his pinky finger into the baby’s fist, and he reflexively grasped it. Several minutes passed, and Bucky felt like it was time to pass him back, even though he didn’t really want to, but when he tried Steve shook his head. “Hold him a while longer,” he said. He smiled indulgently at Bucky, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile back.

 

❤

“Steve?”

“I’m in the baby’s room,” Steve called.

Bucky made his way down the hall and walked into the nursery right as Steve took off the baby’s diaper. Bucky screwed up his nose. “Gross.”

Steve chuckled. “You used to be a baby too once, Buck. You had to have your diapers changed.”

“Yeah, but I grew out of it.” He laughed.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh really? Because I haven’t forgotten about that time you peed your pants at the baseball game when you were seven. Then you cried.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky said, though he did remember that.

Once Steve had removed the dirty diaper Bucky leaned in closer. The baby stared at him and he stared right back. “Why is he staring at me like that?”

“Newborns can’t see that well, Bucky. He’s probably just looking in that direction. And you are pretty close.”

Bucky moved away. “It definitely seems like he’s staring at me.”

Steve smiled. “I guess he finds you interesting.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He fastened the clean diaper. “Hey, I was thinking we could just get takeout tonight. You choose.”

“I could cook something,” Bucky said.

“I don’t think we have much food left.”

“Oh. I could go get some.”

“That would be great, but maybe tomorrow? I think it would be faster if we ordered something now, and I’m starving.”

“Okay, are you sure you don’t have a preference?”

“I’m sure. Just get a lot. But right now, can you watch him while I take a shower? I’ll put him in his car seat. You don’t have to do anything.”

Bucky eyed the baby. “Okay,” he said slowly. He didn’t really want to, but he could see Steve needed a break.

“Thanks, Buck. I’ll be quick.” He patted Bucky’s arm and headed for the bathroom.

Bucky carried the car seat into the living room and put it on the armchair. He sat on the couch and took out his phone to order their food. When he was done, he turned on the TV, and that’s when the baby started crying. He quickly turned the TV off, but the wails didn’t stop. “Shit.” He stood up and hovered over the baby with his red little face. “Please be quiet?” he said. The baby continued wailing.

He thought maybe he was crying because Steve had left him with Bucky, so he backed out of the room and stood behind the door, out of sight. He waited for the crying to stop, but it didn’t. He sighed and went back into the room. “Aah, crap.” He bent down and carefully picked him up, resting him in his flesh arm. He stopped crying instantly. Bucky raised his brows. “Seriously, kid?” The baby stared at him again. He sighed and swayed gently from side to side until the baby closed his eyes.

As soon as he heard the shower turn off, he quickly put the baby back in the car seat and threw himself onto the couch, slouching in a way he hoped made it look like he’d been there the whole time. Only a second later Steve came into the living room with just a towel around his waist. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” Bucky said. He tried not to stare at Steve’s glistening chest.

“Sorry. I wasn’t implying he wouldn’t be fine with you. But I heard him crying.”

“Yeah. But then he just stopped. Babies are so temperamental.”

Steve walked to the armchair and peered down at him. Bucky couldn’t help but look at the way the shower droplets rolled down his back and soaked into the towel that hung too low on his hips. Because of how he was holding it bunched up in front of him, the cloth was stretched tight across his ass. Bucky had to snap himself out of it or Steve would turn around and find him drooling.

“Steve, he’s fine. Go put some clothes on, for Christ’s sake. The food’ll be here soon.”

“Okay, okay.”

Bucky half expected the baby to start crying again when Steve left, but he didn’t. He was fast asleep. When Steve came back dressed, he took the baby to bed and came back just in time for their food to arrive.

Bucky turned the TV on again. There was a movie playing about a man who had to emergency land a plane in the middle of the Hudson River that he became so engrossed in, he didn’t notice until it was over that Steve had fallen asleep, his empty plate still in his hands.

Bucky was uncertain whether he should wake him to send him to bed or just let him sleep on the couch. But when he stood up to collect the dishes, Steve woke. “Oh sorry,” he mumbled. “I must have dozed off.” He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Steve, you don’t have to apologize for falling asleep. Go to bed.”

“I’ll just go check on the baby, then I’ll help with the dishes.”

“No way. I can handle a couple of dishes.”

“I just don’t want you to think you have to do more of the chores now. I can still do my fair share.”

Bucky shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

Steve rested his head back and closed his eyes again. “I mean it, Buck,” he said with a yawn.

“Go to bed.” He grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled on it until Steve lifted from the couch. He then pushed him toward the door. “Go”

“All right, I’m going. Night, Buck.”

“Night.”

After Bucky had cleaned up the kitchen he decided to mop the floors. Then he went into the bathroom and cleaned that too. He really didn’t mind doing a few extra chores around the place if it meant helping Steve out.

 

❤

Bucky reached his hand out from underneath his covers and fumbled for his phone. When he found it he brought it close to his face and squinted at the time on the screen. 5:23. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow around his ears. But although it dulled the sound, he could still hear every cry. He sat up and rubbed his hand over his face before placing his feet on the floor and shuffling down the hall to the living room.

He found Steve bobbing from side to side with the baby in his arms, gently shushing him, but to no avail. He gave Bucky a pained expression when he saw him. “Sorry, Buck. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Maybe he’s hungry,” Bucky said.

Steve looked down at the screaming baby, realization on his face. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve been trying to feed him at six every morning but I guess that’s not working for him. He wants it now.”

“I can hold him while you get his bottle,” Bucky said, holding out his arms. The quicker Steve got the bottle, the quicker the crying would stop.

Steve looked up. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Give him to me.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve handed the baby over and went into the kitchen. Bucky walked to the couch and sat down. The baby’s cries died down a little and, again, Bucky was surprised and strangely embarrassed that he somehow had the ability to calm him. Or perhaps the baby just knew food was on the way.

He was barely making a sound by the time Steve came back with the bottle. He raised an eyebrow at Bucky and sat down beside him. “Sorry about this,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay.”

“But I know you like to sleep in on your days off.”

“It’s fine, Steve. Babies cry. It’s no big deal.”

Steve didn’t look convinced, but he held the bottle out. “Do you wanna feed him?”

Bucky pulled his metal arm out from underneath the tiny bundle and took the bottle. “Okay, but only because I’m afraid he’ll start up again if I hand him back.”

Steve’s mouth twisted into a pout. “Great, my own son hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Bucky said. “But can you blame him for wanting to hang out with me for a while? What’s not to like about that?”

Steve laughed. “Well, I guess your giant head could be very interesting to him.”

They both chuckled and then it was completely quiet. There wasn’t much traffic going past their apartment building. Most people were still asleep. There was always a surreal stillness that hovered over this time of the morning. Not that Bucky made a habit of being awake at this time, but he’d had his fair share of insomnia. His eyelids drooped but he shook himself awake. He glanced at Steve who was staring down at the baby fondly, as he guzzled up the milk. He reached out and brushed his hand over the downy head. Bucky’s chest tightened and he looked away.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Steve so happy. Maybe that was because his memory was still spotty sometimes, or maybe it had just never happened until now. He was glad Steve was happy, but when he looked up again, Steve’s smile had turned into a worried frown. He sighed. “I need to name him soon. I can’t keep calling him ‘the baby’.”

Bucky tried to stifle a yawn, but it came out as he spoke. “You don’t have to decide now. Don’t stress over it.”

Steve threw his head back against the couch. “I’ve barely had time to even think about it. But what I have come up with has been all wrong. What does he look like to you?”

How was Bucky supposed to think of a name that matched the personality of a two-week-old? He could understand Steve’s frustration. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.”

They were quiet again as they went back to watching the baby feed. Bucky ran through names of the guys he’d met in his life—when he was a kid and a young adult, and during the war. But nothing stood out to him as being the right name for Steve’s son. A little Captain America. He laughed. “Hey, what about Cap Junior?”

“Ha,” Steve said sarcastically. “I’m not calling him Cap Junior.”

“CJ then.”

“No.”

“Well, you asked,” Bucky said, with faux indignation.

“Anyway, you’re Captain America now.”

Bucky shook his head. Steve would always be Captain America to him.

“What about . . . Robert?” Steve said.

Bucky shrugged.

“No . . . David?”

“David’s all right.”

“Just all right though. What about Nicholas?”

Bucky made a face. “Really?”

“I know. It’s all wrong.”

“No. I think you’re onto something. Saint Steve needs a son named . . . Saint Nicholas.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and poked Bucky in the ribs. “Very funny.” He sighed. “I guess I _could_ call him Junior. For now.”

Bucky nodded. “That works.”

The baby finished his bottle shortly after, and Bucky handed him back to Steve to be burped. He was fine with feeding him but drew the line at being puked on. “I’m gonna head back to bed for a few more hours.”

“Okay. Thanks, Buck. Sorry again.”

Bucky shook his head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince Steve it was _okay_. But he truly hadn’t minded. It had turned out to be calming for him too. Comforting. He fell back onto his pillow and went to sleep with baby names floating around his head, like fragments of a dream.

 

❤

Urgent cries shook Steve from a deep sleep. He jumped out of bed and raced into the next room, hoping to soothe Junior before his screaming woke Bucky too, but as soon as Steve picked him up and turned away from the crib, he saw Bucky, bleary-eyed and hair a mess, standing in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Steve said.

Bucky just shook his head.

Steve lowered Junior carefully onto the pad on the dresser he used for a changing station, but his diaper was dry. And no wonder—Steve glanced at the clock on the bookshelf and noted that only a little more than an hour had passed since he’d given Junior his last bottle of the night and tucked him in.

After closing up Junior’s pajamas, Steve cradled him against his chest and rocked back and forth.

Bucky’s voice came out gruff with sleep: “I think he’s hungry.”

“Hungry?” Steve said. “He just ate.”

Bucky shrugged. “He sounds hungry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I just think he’s hungry.” Bucky crossed the room and looked down at Junior, who was still yelling at the top of his lungs. “It’s worth a try, right?”

“Okay, fine. Hold him, will you? While I get a bottle.”

“I’ll get it.”

As Bucky left the room, Steve followed more slowly and settled himself on the couch in the living room. Bucky found him there a few minutes later, and sure enough, as soon as Steve let the bottle’s nipple touch Junior’s lips, he stopped screaming and sucked desperately at it, draining it in record time.

“I guess he was hungry,” Bucky said.

“I guess so,” Steve admitted. “But how did you know that?”

Bucky’s head was tilted back, his mouth open in a huge yawn. He shrugged and slouched deeper into the couch cushions.

“No, really, Buck. How did you know he was hungry? He’d just had a bottle at bedtime, and he drank the whole thing. He shouldn’t have been hungry so soon, or at least not hungry enough to make him cry like that.”

“Maybe it’s a growth spurt?”

Steve looked down at Junior’s face. He was sleeping peacefully now. Steve could take him back to bed and try to get back to sleep, but he couldn’t let go of the idea that Bucky had figured out the problem before he did.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked. “He’s fine now.”

“I just don’t get how you knew.”

Bucky looked vaguely embarrassed. “His cries sound different. Sometimes I just get a feeling.”

“A feeling? What the hell does that mean?”

Bucky’s expression tightened. Steve hadn’t meant to sound so grumpy about it. He stretched out one foot and nudged at Bucky’s leg with his toes. Bucky shot him an annoyed look, but it was playful, and the unhappy tension in his face had disappeared.

“Look, I can’t explain it. Sometimes I just get a feeling, like I know what’s bugging him. Like just now—I just knew he was hungry.”

“Okay, so his cries sound different,” Steve said. “Different how?”

“I don’t know.”

“Louder? More high-pitched?”

Bucky threw up his hands in surrender. “I told you, I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Steve sighed. It was stupid to be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky understood his kid better than he could? He looked down at Junior’s fluffy hair. The way his eyelashes settled in a dark smudge across his soft, rounded cheeks. Steve wanted the best for him—wanted that more than anything—but he couldn’t even figure out the basics.

“Hey, come on,” Bucky said. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, and it was a comfort Steve needed more than he cared to admit. “Don’t make that face. You’re doing great.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Bucky said, pulling himself off the couch. “So what if I speak baby and you don’t? I’ll be here to translate until Cap Junior learns English.”

 

❤

Steve had asked Bucky to stop by the supermarket on the way home because they had barely any food in their apartment. Steve had always been on top of keeping their cupboards stocked before, but lately they were neglected until the last minute when one of them could run to the store.

As he was preparing to go to the checkout he walked past some cheap kids’ toys in a bin and stopped. There were soft teddy bears—Cap Junior already had a million of those—squishy balls, building blocks, and a rattle that looked like a big ugly shark, with teeth made of felt sticking out haphazardly. Most people would probably think it was too scary for a baby, but for some reason, Bucky knew Cap Junior would go crazy for it. Besides, sharks had an unfair reputation. They weren’t really bad creatures. He shook it experimentally, and the man standing beside him gave him a weird look. He glared back and threw the rattle into his cart.

When Bucky got home, Steve and Cap Junior were both sprawled on the living room floor. Cap Junior was on his back while Steve held a soft toy above him and spoke to him with a quiet voice. Bucky mostly had his thing with Steve under control but every once in a while it caught him off guard. Something about seeing Steve so relaxed and happy on the floor, and then grinning at him when he walked in the room, made his stomach flop-flop. He recovered quickly and sat down on the floor too.

“Hey. Look what I’ve got,” he said, and pulled out the shark rattle.

“What is _that_?” Steve said, but Cap Junior’s face lit up when he saw it.

Bucky laughed and couldn’t resist tickling his chubby little legs as he shook the rattle. “He loves it.”

Steve laughed too and shook his head. “Both of you are weird.”

“I think by ‘weird’ you mean ‘the best people you know’.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. How was your day?” he asked.

“Okay. I taught Wanda how to put me in a chokehold. In case anything happens with her powers and she needs to fight the traditional way.”

Steve looked a little alarmed. “That’s a smart idea but . . . are you all right?”

Bucky raised his eyebrow. “I said I taught her how to do it. Doesn’t mean she could keep me in it, you big dork.”

Steve laughed. “Well, watch out. Soon enough she’ll figure it out.”

“That’s true,” Bucky said. “I got hot dogs for us to have for dinner. Sorry I’m not a better cook.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t have anything in the apartment. It slipped my mind. We had a pediatrician appointment this afternoon, and he’s been fussy ever since. And you know I’ll eat anything. Thanks for getting the groceries.” Bucky shrugged. “No.” Steve pushed himself up and sat cross-legged too. “I know you clean and do things for me when you think I don’t notice. I notice. Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged again, feeling embarrassed.

Steve nudged him. “You can’t fool me, Buck.”

Bucky knew he’d actually been fooling Steve for a very long time, about how he felt about him. “You’d be surprised. You’re very gullible,” he said jokingly.

“No, I’m not.”

“Uh huh.” He pushed himself off the floor. “I’m gonna start dinner.”

He put the meal together pretty fast while Steve put Cap Junior down to sleep. While they were eating, Steve said, “I really have to give him a name soon. You should have seen the look on the pediatrician’s face when I confessed he still doesn’t have one. I felt like a terrible parent.”

“You’re not a terrible parent, Steve. Anyway, he has a name. Cap Junior.”

Steve ignored that. “What about my middle name? Grant?”

“You can’t call a baby _Grant_.” Bucky said. “That’s a man’s name.”

“He’ll be a man one day.” Steve said. “That’s how men get man’s names.”

“I thought you weren’t enforcing gender roles.”

Steve gave him an annoyed look.

“You could call him Roger. Roger Rogers.” He snickered.

“This is serious, Buck. He needs a name. What about Eugene?”

Bucky made a face.

“Barry?”

“Barry! That’s even worse than Grant.”

“What about something Irish? Like Fergus?” Bucky stared at him. Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“So you admit it’s bad. You want to give your child a bad name.”

Steve sighed. “I just can’t think of anything I like.”

“Well, I still like Cap Junior.”

Steve didn’t say anything after that, and Bucky worried Steve was upset with him. Before Steve stood up with his plate, Bucky grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Steve’s eyes softened. “I’m not mad at you, Bucky. I was just thinking. The name thing hadn’t even been bothering me until we went to the pediatrician today. Now . . . I’m just worrying my indecisiveness about this is causing him harm.”

Bucky hated seeing Steve upset about this. He wanted to give that doctor a piece of his mind. “Steve, nothing you’re doing for that kid is causing him harm. You’re doing great. The perfect name will come to you soon enough.”

Steve looked down and spun his fork around with his fingers. “You think so?”

“I know it. And when it does, you’ll be glad you didn’t name him _Fergus_.”

 

❤

Bucky came into the laundry room as Steve was moving a load from the washer to the dryer.

“Did you order more books?” Bucky set a package down on top of the washer. “This came for you.”

“No, I haven’t finished reading the last batch.” Steve set the time on the dryer and picked up the box. It was heavy for its size. “I wonder what it is.”

“I know one surefire way to find out,” Bucky said as he left the room.

Steve followed him back to the kitchen and set the box on the counter. He found the scissors—in the wrong drawer, because Bucky tended to just stick them any old place—and slit the packing tape. Inside was a stack of flat rectangular presents, obviously professionally wrapped, with a pale blue envelope on top.

Bucky peeked over Steve’s shoulder. “Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know.” Steve picked up the envelope and pulled out the card. It had a picture of old-fashioned baby shoes on the front. It was one of those blank cards where you write your own message. Steve recognized Sharon’s handwriting immediately: _I heard about your decision to adopt, and I wanted to let you know how happy I am for you. You’ll be a great dad._

“So who’s it from?”

“Sharon.”

There was no answer. When Steve turned around, Bucky had left the kitchen.

Steve opened the first gift, a pair of very soft blue pajamas. The other two presents were picture books. Steve flipped through the books. The stories seemed sweet, and the art was beautiful. It was thoughtful of Sharon to send a present, but really, it just showed how little Sharon knew about kids: Junior had already outgrown the pajamas—he had only fit into newborn clothes for a few weeks—and it would be years before he’d be ready for the books. Of course, Steve himself hadn’t really known anything about kids before he’d decided to do this, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t have learned.

Steve sat down to write a thank you note before Junior woke up from his nap. But when he sat down with a blank piece of stationery in front of him, he couldn’t think of what to say. What did she mean by sending the gift anyway? Did she want to be in touch again? Was she regretting their breakup? Steve wasn’t interested in any relationships other than the one with his son. He didn’t have time to focus on anyone else, and he was sure that Sharon hadn’t really changed her mind—her career was important to her, and that was her choice.

He decided to be businesslike in the letter. Sharon hadn’t written much in her note, after all. Steve would be gracious and thank her for the nice presents for Junior, but he wouldn’t put anything personal in the note.

But the first draft he came up with sounded like it had been written by a third grader, it was so stiff and formulaic. He crumpled up the letter and tossed it toward the wastebasket just as Bucky emerged from the hallway and the wad of paper bounced off Bucky’s leg and onto the floor.

Bucky looked at Steve with one eyebrow quirked up. “Writer’s block?”

“I just don’t know why she sent Junior a present,” Steve grumbled. “Why do you think she did it?”

“How should I know?”

“C’mon, you were always great with women.”

“Ha.” Bucky came and perched on the edge of the desk. “If I ever knew anything about women, I’ve forgotten it all.”

Steve sighed. “I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe she just wanted to get you something.” Bucky sounded exasperated. “Isn’t that what people do when other people have babies?”

“Yeah, but what does it mean? Is she trying to patch things up?”

“Is that what you want?”

“ _No_.” Steve answered so quickly he surprised himself.

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

That made Steve pause. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“So you write her a nice polite note like your mother taught you and then you forget about it.”

Bucky was smiling now, the way he always did when Steve got himself twisted up by thinking too hard about something that really wasn’t all that complicated.

“Okay,” Steve said. “I can do that.” But as soon as Steve picked up his pen, Junior stared fussing. “I guess I’ll do it later.”

“I’ll get him, if you want,” Bucky said. “So you can finish your letter.”

“You don’t mind?”

Bucky gave Steve a pointed look. “I just offered.”

“Okay, thanks,” Steve said. “Thanks a lot.”

Steve tried to turn his attention back to his letter, but he struggled to stay focused. Shouldn’t he _want_ to get back with Sharon? If he couldn’t make it work with her. . . . But no, they weren’t right for each other. Steve hoped to have a real family one day—to be married and maybe have a little sister for Junior, but that wasn’t the life Sharon wanted.

Bucky returned to the room carrying Junior, who looked adorably sleepy, rubbing clumsily at his eye with one chubby fist.

“Hey, pal,” Steve said as he rose from his chair. “Did you have a good nap?” He bent to press a kiss to Junior’s forehead.

“I thought you wanted to write your letter,” Bucky said.

“I’ll do it later.”

 

❤

Bucky’d had a long day at work and was trying to get through washing the dishes as quickly as possible so he could just collapse on the couch and watch a silly movie or TV show before having an early night. He handed Steve the dripping wet pan they had used to cook the spaghetti sauce and started scrubbing the colander. Steve ran the dish towel over the pan and Bucky caught him making a face at the orange smear that was left on the towel. “I don’t think you washed this properly.” Bucky just shrugged. “Can you wash it again please?” Steve said.

“Can’t you just wipe it off with the towel?” Bucky said.

“Uh, no. That’s disgusting.”

Bucky sighed. “Fine. Don’t have a conniption over it.” He grabbed the pan from Steve and dumped it back in the sink.

“I’m not having a conniption. I just don’t want dirty pans.”

“Why don’t you wash them then? If I’m so bad at it.”

“I never said you were bad at it, Buck.”

“You kind of did.” He snatched the towel from Steve. Steve looked like he was going to say something but changed his mind. Then he opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. Bucky huffed. “What?”

Steve cringed. “You’ll have to get a clean towel. That one’s all greasy now.”

Bucky was internally debating whether he could be bothered arguing over that or not when a wail came from the baby monitor on the counter beside them. Steve already had his hands in the soapy water. “Don’t worry about the towel,” he said. “Can you please go and check on Junior?”

Bucky dropped the towel on the floor—it was dirty anyway, apparently—knowing it would annoy Steve, and walked out of the kitchen. It just hadn’t been a good day for him. He decided instead of watching TV he should probably just go to bed. After he got a quick hug from Cap Junior.

He walked into the nursery, turned around, and walked straight out again. He went back to the kitchen. “Um. Steve . . . ?”

Steve looked up from his scrubbing. “What is it?”

“There’s, uh, shit.”

Steve sighed. “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I think you need to come now.”

Steve let the pan clunk to the bottom of the sink and gave Bucky an annoyed look, but he dried his hands off and followed Bucky to Cap Junior’s bedroom. Even Steve hesitated when he saw the mess. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

It was a warm night so Steve had put Cap Junior to bed in only a T-shirt and diaper. Somehow, he had managed to undo his diaper and wriggle out of it. Not only that, but he had the runs. And he was very unhappy about it. Steve stepped forward. “Hey. Hey, little buddy. It’s okay.” He patted him on the head, then looked back to Bucky with pleading eyes.

Bucky sighed and stepped forward too. “Okay. What do you need?”

Steve was all business then. “Here, you lift him from under his arms and I’ll pull the sheet up around his legs. Then we’ll take him to the bathroom.” Bucky did as instructed, but not without gagging a little. “A super soldier like you can’t handle a little poop?” Steve asked.

Bucky laughed darkly. “Ha. A little.” He held the baby as far away from his body as he could as they awkwardly made their way down the hall to the bathroom. All the while Cap Junior screamed at the top of his lungs.

Bucky held him over the tub while Steve hosed him off with the detachable shower head. Then he started running Cap Junior’s second bath of the night. Once he was sitting in the warm pool of water, his cries subsided, and he even cracked a smile when Steve tickled him with the rubber duck.

Bucky turned to away to leave them to it when he stopped short and looked down at the sheets by his feet. “I say we just throw this stuff away rather than try and wash them,” he said.

Steve looked at the dirty pile of bedding, his face thoughtful. Bucky knew he hated waste. They’d never had the money before to waste anything. Eventually, he agreed to throwing the sheet away but thought the mattress protector could be salvaged. “I’ll do it, Buck,” he said when Bucky bent to pick the bedding up. He lifted Cap Junior out of the bath and wrapped him in a towel. “Will you just sit with Junior for a while, while I put clean sheets on his bed?”

Bucky nodded and held out his arms. He took him into the living room and settled onto the couch. He didn’t turn the TV on, just sat quietly, and Cap Junior promptly fell asleep with his cheek pressed against Bucky’s chest. Bucky stared at him. “How could such a little guy make a huge mess like that, huh?” he whispered. Cap Junior’s eyelids fluttered. Bucky held his warm, damp little body tighter. At least he was getting his hug.

Steve emerged. “His bed’s ready.” Bucky nodded and stood up, careful not to wake him. He watched as Steve put a clean diaper on him—closing it securely—and fresh pajamas. He put him down to sleep and kissed his forehead. “Please don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, laughter in his voice, then they quietly left the room.

Bucky helped put some of the bedding in a trash bag and left Steve to deal with the laundry while he took it out. When he came back, he leaned against the washing machine and groaned painfully. Steve glanced at him and started chuckling. Bucky gave him a withering look.

“I’m not ready to laugh about this yet, Steve.”

Steve laughed harder, and Bucky couldn’t keep the smile off his face. After a moment, Steve sobered and looked at Bucky in a way that made him shuffle his feet and stare at the ground. “Thank you for all your help, Bucky. I don’t know how some people do this on their own. I don’t know if I’d be able to.”

Bucky looked up. “Of course you would. You can and always have done anything you put your mind to.” But he appreciated the thanks all the same.

“Well, I’m still glad you’re here,” Steve said.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this after what just happened but yeah, me too.”

 

❤

Now that Cap Junior was able to sit up on his own, Steve had to take a trip to Target to buy him a high chair. Bucky tagged along since he had a day off and nothing better to do. However, Steve took a painfully long time deciding which high chair was the best one, and Bucky was soon regretting his decision. “Ugh, this is boring,” he complained. He thought Cap Junior looked like he agreed. Bucky picked him up from where he was sitting in the front of the cart. “Come on buddy, let’s go look at something fun.” He told Steve where they were going and Steve nodded, not looking up from inspecting one of the high chair displays.

So Bucky and Cap Junior wandered off to the toy aisles. They found a large display of stuffed animals and Bucky settled cross legged on the floor, with Cap Junior in his lap. When Steve finally came to find them they were playing with stuffed dinosaurs. “Roaarr,” Bucky said and tickled Cap Junior with a fluffy tyrannosaurus rex.

“I can hear him giggling from fifty yards away,” Steve said. The box with the high chair he’d chosen was sticking out of the cart at an awkward angle, and as he pushed it down the aisle he almost knocked several Barbies off the shelf. He straightened them and carefully swerved the cart away.

“You have super soldier hearing,” Bucky said. “And he can’t help it that I’m hilarious.”

As if to prove Bucky’s point Cap Junior let out a high-pitched cackle. Steve cringed. “We should probably get going. He leaned down and picked Cap Junior up from Bucky’s lap. He turned him over to inspect the back of his trousers for dirt and brushed his butt off. Bucky rolled his eyes and held his arm out for Steve to grab onto and haul himself up.

“Sorry, but I don’t think we’ll be leaving without Mr. T-Rex,” Bucky said. “He picked out the toy that looks most like his daddy.”

Steve gave him a wry smile. “Put it in the cart.” He sat Cap Junior into the baby seat and Bucky squashed the soft toy in beside him.

As they were leaving Bucky was attracted to a bright colored box proclaiming the contents to be ‘Kinetic Sand.’ “Whoa, look at this stuff,” he said. Bucky had found tactile objects like Play-Doh and stress relief gadgets really helpful with his recovery. His therapist still had plenty of items like that laid out on the table for him when he visited her. He’d never seen Kinetic Sand before though.

Steve turned to see what Bucky was looking at. “I don’t think the baby’s old enough for that, Bucky.”

“I know, but I kinda want it.” He moved to put it back on the shelf, feeling foolish, but Steve put a hand out to stop him.

Steve smiled at him in a way that seemed to sink right through Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm all over. He hoped it wouldn’t manifest on his cheeks. “Put it in the cart,” Steve said.

That night, Steve asked Bucky to watch Cap Junior while he went out for a quick run. The baby sat in the high chair that had taken Steve and Bucky way longer to assemble than it should have. He stared at Bucky as he sat down at the table beside him and opened his packet of Kinetic Sand.

He dumped the contents out onto a plastic tray and watched as it melted from the clumps it had formed in its packaging. He picked some up and let it crumble through his fingers, before forming it into unidentifiable shapes. It was soft and silky. Sometimes he just needed something like this to help him relax. Things were so much better now. A lot of the time—especially when he was around Steve—he felt like his old self again, and he could even go days without thinking about his past with Hydra. But sometimes he was anxious for no reason, and distracting himself helped.

He glanced at Cap Junior, who stared at him with wide eyes. He reached his hand out, clearly wanting to play with the sand too. “Sorry, buddy. If I let you play with this you’d probably eat it and then I’d be in big trouble.” Cap Junior frowned and Bucky chuckled. He gave the handful of sand he was holding one last squeeze and let it fall onto the tray. He wiggled his fingers and watched as the sand slipped from the crevices of his metal hand. He gave them one final brush off before picking Cap Junior up and taking him into the living room.

“Ah, here it is.” He sat down on the couch and settled the baby into his lap. He picked up the fluffy dinosaur they’d bought that day. Cap Junior’s eyes lit up and he instantly started giggling, and it only got louder when Bucky started making funny noises and tickling him with the toy. He had an infectious laugh, Bucky couldn’t help grinning. “You’re adorable,” he said. “But don’t you ever tell Steve I said that.”

 

❤

Back in his pre-war life, Bucky had loved music and dancing, and lately he’d become fascinated with modern music. During his time in Romania, he had just been on survival mode, and things like music were low priority to him. But now that his life had settled down a bit—despite Steve suddenly having a _baby_ —and he had more of his memories back, he was interested in things like that again.

But there was so much to catch up on. Sam was helping him by recommending songs and artists. Sam said most of the music from the last decade was pretty terrible, but Bucky enjoyed a lot of it, and sometimes he strayed away from what Sam said was good. A lot of that came from the novelty of the explicit things people sang about now. He couldn’t believe it. When he was cleaning up after dinner the other night, he had been listening to a song he was pretty sure was entirely about butts.

He’d been humming along, swaying to the music, while Cap Junior sat perched in his high chair watching him, when Steve walked in and ran over to the baby with horror on his face. He placed his hands over Cap Junior’s ears. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You can’t play that stuff in front of the baby!”

Bucky laughed. “Steve, you can barely even understand what they’re saying. I don’t think he’s going to be permanently damaged by a song about butts.” But he turned it off.

Steve removed his hands from Cap Junior’s ears and the baby looked up at him with what Bucky thought was an accusatory face. Steve ran a hand over his downy head. “Maybe,” he said, “but don’t you have anything a bit more . . . child friendly?”

Bucky picked up his phone and scrolled through the playlist he’d been listening to. “I’m not sure. I haven’t listened to these enough to be sure they’re not all about sex. And a lot of songs are about sex these days, Steve.”

Steve cupped his hands over Cap Junior’s ears again. “Shhh.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’ll ask Sam to make me a baby-appropriate playlist, okay?”

Steve nodded. “Thanks.”

So there he was in the kitchen again, three days later, listening to a new playlist. Steve had gone to take the trash downstairs, and Bucky knew he always got to talking with their elderly neighbor Mrs. Miller whenever he did that, so Bucky took the opportunity to have a little fun with Cap Junior. He was playing a song Sam said was a big hit from a recent kids’ movie, and he really liked it. He couldn’t help himself from dancing a little. He grabbed Cap Junior’s hands, waving them around and clapping them together as he sang along to the music. Cap Junior laughed riotously, so Bucky started acting even more outlandish. He ran around the high chair, dancing and singing and making faces at the baby as he went past.

He stopped short when he saw Steve in the doorway staring at him with wide eyes.

“I was just. . . .,” he stammered. He knew he hadn’t been caught doing anything bad. But he kind of felt like he had. Until Steve started laughing. He was folded over with his hands on his knees, laughing harder than Bucky had ever seen him. Bucky didn’t usually blush—that was Steve’s thing—but he felt some warmth crawling up his neck. He walked back to the sink. “You know, this is your fault, Steve. If you’d just let me carry on listening to butt songs, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m glad I didn’t then,” Steve said. He poked Bucky in the back, then moved to take Cap Junior out of his high chair. “Come on, buddy, bath time.” When he had the baby in his arms, he grabbed one of his tiny hands and held him as if they were dancing, swaying from side to side.

“You’re still a dead hoofer,” Bucky said.

Steve laughed. “And you’re still _great_ at it.”

He ran from the room and Bucky scowled after him. But the pealing laughter from Cap Junior forced the edge of his mouth to curl up. He turned the music up, because he really did like it, and not at all because he was hoping the baby would still be able to enjoy it while he had his bath.

 

❤

Steve arrived with Junior at the aquarium a full twenty minutes before it opened, hoping to miss the crowds, but the large open area in front of the building was already crammed full. There were dozens of families with young children and strollers. They must have all had the same idea: see as much as possible before the kids got cranky. But the families were mostly interested only in themselves, so no one paid any attention to them, much less recognized Steve.

When the doors opened, there was a huge line of people waiting to sign out one of the aquarium’s backpack baby carriers, but Steve strode right past that crowd. He’d read online that strollers weren’t allowed. It wasn’t a big deal—he didn’t like the idea of putting Junior in one of the aquarium’s carriers anyway. He wasn’t paranoid, but with all the kids that rode in those things, they had to be crawling with germs, so he’d gone out yesterday to buy a carrier that let him strap Junior to his chest. He preferred the idea of carrying Junior that way anyway, and when he got tired, Steve could turn him around to sleep nestled against his chest.

At first Junior didn’t seem to even notice the fish. He was watching the crowd, wide-eyed, but when Steve stopped in front of a huge tank in the Australia section, some turtles caught Junior’s eye—strange creatures with oddly long snaky necks. He started waving his arms around and gurgling happily.

“Sorry, pal, but you’re not allowed to pet them.”

Junior shouted in frustration and banged his tiny fists on the glass.

Steve gently grabbed his hands. “Hey, take it easy. The animals don’t like that.” After that, Steve was careful to stay just far enough away from the glass of each tank.

Everything was fascinating to Junior: not just the animals, but the trees hanging overhead and the fake rocks that surrounded the exhibits. Steve looked at Junior more than the fish and turtles, but he was having a good time.

They were standing in front of an alligator tank—or were they crocodiles? Steve couldn’t see the sign through the crowd—when a baby somewhere nearby started to cry. Steve looked to his left and saw a father crouching slightly so that his wife could pull the fussy baby out of the carrier strapped to his back.

Steve felt suddenly lonely. There were families all around him: mothers and fathers working together to herd their children safely through the shifting masses of people. Not that he couldn’t handle everything himself if Junior started to cry, but it would be comforting, not to mention convenient, to have someone always there to help take care of him. Steve had Bucky, of course. He knew he could count on Bucky no matter what, but he already relied on Bucky more than was fair. It would be different if Steve were married and had someone who was equally invested in parenthood. Someone who had shared in the decision to start a family rather than someone who’d been roped into helping without having any say in the matter.

Junior let out an unhappy noise and wriggled in the carrier, kicking his chubby legs. He was getting restless, and who could blame him when all he could see was the blue fabric of the backpack carrier in front of him? The Australia section had gotten so packed with people that Steve decided to skip out. They could always come back and see the rest of the exhibits later if it got less crowded.

Even once they were free of the throng, Junior was grumbling, so Steve lifted him out of the carrier and held him with one arm. It felt silly having the empty carrier dangling in front of him, but it was easier than having another thing to juggle, so Steve left it on.

They passed into an area that was dark except for the slightly eerie blue light coming from a grouping of floor-to-ceiling tubes that were filled with water. Every so often, a cluster of bubbles would rise through one of the tubes, gurgling as it went. Junior waved his arms in the direction of the tubes, leaning out so suddenly that Steve had to grab him to keep him from falling.

“You want to go see the bubbles?”

When they were close enough, Junior reached out to slap at one of the tubes with his palms. Steve didn’t discourage him, figuring there was no way he could break it, and there were no animals inside to bother. When a huge bubble wobbled up right in front of Junior’s face, he laughed, deep in his belly, and thumped on the tube again. When a second bubble appeared, he let out a happy shriek, and Steve fumbled for his phone. He managed to get the camera set up before the next group of bubbles passed by so was able to capture Junior’s hysterical laughter on video.

Although it seemed odd to spend so much time with the tubes when they were supposed to be there for the fish, it made Junior happy, so they stood there for a good ten minutes, Junior drumming on the tube and giggling madly, while Steve tried to film it all. It probably wouldn’t even turn out—it was too dark, and it was impossible to hold the phone steady while Junior wiggled around, but at least the sound would probably be clear: Junior’s belly laughs and triumphant shouts every time the bubbles went by.

Steve thought about sending the video to Bucky, but instead he tucked the phone back into his pocket. He didn’t want to be one of those parents who assumed everyone was interested in watching videos or looking at photos.

The next exhibit was a huge open tank. The walkway went all the way around so visitors could look down into a coral reef. Steve especially liked the huge rays. They looked like they were flying rather than swimming. He looked to see how Junior was reacting, but he wasn’t even looking down at the water.

“Look, buddy, it’s like the mural in your room.”

But Junior didn’t pay any attention to Steve. He was gazing at a tiny girl next to him who was strapped into a carrier a lot like theirs. She was a beautiful child. Her huge dark eyes were surrounded by impossibly long lashes. Her hair was pulled into barrettes on either side of her head, creating two little spheres of fluffy curls. The hairstyle seemed to fascinate Junior—he leaned precariously away from Steve to grab at one side, as if it were a ball he could play with.

“Whoa.” Steve gently pried Junior’s fingers away from the girl’s hair. “Let’s not grab. Okay, pal?” Steve looked up and smiled in apology. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Babies always—” The man stared, his mouth hanging open. “You’re—you’re. . . .” He blinked a few times. “Captain—”

“Today I’m just Dad,” Steve said, cutting him off.

“Of course. Yeah, of course. Sorry.” The guy shook his head in disbelief. “Wow, I read somewhere that you adopted a kid. I figured it was just the tabloids.”

“No, it’s true.” Steve had tried to ignore all the media attention surrounding his decision to adopt, but even thinking about it made him ready to be defensive. The man smiled, and Steve realized he was just being friendly.

Junior chatted happily to the little girl—a string of nonsense words—and reached out to her. She let him grab her hand but eyed him warily.

“We adopted too.”

Steve was surprised the guy said _we_ , since he was on his own with the girl, but when he rested his left hand against the girl’s tummy, Steve saw the golden band on his ring finger. He felt stupidly disappointed, though it had never occurred to him before to befriend another single adoptive dad.

“So how’s it going?” the guy asked.

Steve surprised himself with a laugh. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know exactly what you mean. But it’s worth it.” He caressed the tiny girl’s dark curls. “It’s honestly worth it.”

“How old is she?”

“Almost 15 months. Yours?”

“Five months today.”

‘Hey, you’re doing great then. An outing like this, all by yourself? Up until she was about six months old, we felt like we accomplished a miracle if we both got showers, much less made it out of the house.”

He was probably exaggerating, but it was nice of him to try to make Steve feel like he was doing okay.

“You don’t really need an introduction,” the guy teased. “But what’s this little one’s name?”

“J—” Steve stopped, too embarrassed to admit that his son didn’t have his own name and that they’d been calling him _Junior_ all this time. “James,” he blurted out before he even thought about it. “This is James.”

“This is Chloe, and I’m Daniel.”

Steve held out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s keeping your papa?” Daniel said, running his hand again over Chloe’s hair. “He would hate to miss his chance to meet Captain America.”

 _Papa?_ Understanding had just started to dawn on Steve when another man walked up, wrapped his hand affectionately around the little girl’s ankle, and pressed a quick kiss to Daniel’s cheek.

“I almost missed you,” the newcomer said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come on a Saturday.”

Instead of answering, Daniel just grinned.

His husband frowned slightly and huffed out a breathy laugh. “What’s that look for?”

“We made some new friends.” Daniel gestured in Steve’s direction. “This is Steve and his son, James. Steve, this is Eddie.”

Eddie turned, his hand already extended for a handshake. When he saw Steve, he froze and his jaw dropped. He flushed from his neck to his hairline. “Oh, I—”

He grabbed Steve’s hand and shook it enthusiastically, his face still bright red. “Wow. Wow! I can’t believe it. I’m a big fan. A big—I mean, I admire everything you’ve—your service. To our country.”

Steve thanked him and tried to pull his hand away, but Eddie was still pumping it up and down.

“Wow, Steve Rogers. In the flesh.”

Eddie’s eyes skimmed down over Steve’s body, and Steve’s general embarrassment over Eddie’s fawning suddenly became distinctly personal. He glanced at Daniel, who was smiling. He seemed genuinely amused rather than jealous at Eddie’s less-than-subtle interest in Steve.

Eddie suddenly seemed to realize he still had Steve’s hand captive and snatched his own hand away. “Sorry, I just, you know, since I was kid.” His blush, which had started to fade, came back in full force, and he turned to Daniel. “I’ll just, um, take Chloe. To see the octopus. I—yeah. The octopus.” He struggled to lift Chloe out of the carrier, but she was strapped into it snugly, and Daniel had to unbuckle it before Eddie could pull her into his arms. “We’ll be, um, just—just over there.”

Daniel chuckled. “Sorry. I probably should have warned you. Eddie’s had a crush on you since he was a kid. He once told me reading his father’s Captain America comic books made him realize he was gay, and I think he was only half joking.”

Steve’s own face had warmed, but he didn’t really mind. Once the embarrassment had passed, Eddie turned out to be just as friendly as Daniel, and Steve and Junior spent the rest of the morning touring the exhibits with them. Steve even agreed to tag along when they went to lunch, and it was helpful being able to seat Junior in a high chair next to Chloe and let Eddie keep an eye on the kids while Steve and Daniel stacked up a couple of trays with lunch and brought them back to the table. And Junior loved Chloe, babbling to her cheerfully all throughout the day.

A couple of times Steve glanced away from a tank and caught a glimpse of intimacy. Eddie whispering in Daniel’s ear and the sly grin Daniel gave him in response. A kiss stolen in a particularly dark corner—though it wasn’t exacting a romantic setting, next to a small tank full of eerie, ghostlike, eyeless fish from deep under the ocean.

Steve would have thought their affection would have made him uncomfortable, though they weren’t doing anything inappropriate. For the most part they just acted like good friends—not any different than Steve and Bucky, really. Instead—maybe it was the same loneliness he’d felt that morning, seeing all the families around him—it made him wistful. He’d never been any good at romance, and with a child, it would be even harder to make a relationship work.

They parted ways around three o’clock when Chloe started to get crabby. “She won’t sleep in the carrier anymore,” Daniel explained. “But as soon as the car starts moving, she’ll conk right out.”

Junior was still happy, though he hadn’t napped either, so Steve took him back to see the coral reef again. Meeting Daniel, Eddie, and Chloe had distracted both Steve and Junior, so they hadn’t really seen much of that exhibit.

It took a few moments to get Junior focused on the water below them, because he had gotten used to looking at tanks right next to him, set in the walls, but once he caught on he was enraptured. He grew particularly excited when he caught sight of an enormous sea turtle—its shell alone was three feet across—and Steve had to keep a firm grip on him so he didn’t take a header over the railing into the water.

As the turtle swam directly in front of them, Steve noticed that its left front flipper was missing. He found a sign explaining that she had been rescued with a serious injury, and because her flipper needed to be amputated they couldn’t return her to the wild. “She doesn’t let it slow her down though, does she?” Steve said to Junior. “Just like Bucky.” Junior looked up at Steve and grinned—it seemed like he recognized Bucky’s name.

Right before they left, Steve took Junior into the gift shop. By the door there was a big wooden trunk filled with brightly colored stuffed animals. Steve noticed a little stuffed seahorse about six inches tall. They’d seen a tank with seahorses that morning, but Junior’s reaction had been disappointing—they’d been hiding in seaweed, and Steve figured they’d been too well camouflaged for Junior to be able to make them out. But there was no way he could miss the toy’s rainbow colors.

Steve only meant to show it to Junior, but his eyes and mouth opened wide in wonder, and he reached for the toy with both chubby hands. When Steve handed it to him, he closed his eyes and stuffed the thing’s snout into his mouth, gnawing on it out of sheer delight. Even if Junior hadn’t been so in love with it, Steve felt like he had to buy it because its entire head was covered in baby slobber.

The whole way back to the car, Steve held onto the seahorse’s tail so that it wouldn’t fall on the filthy floor or the sidewalk, but Junior’s fingers never loosened, not dropping it once. After he was safely buckled into his carseat, Steve tried to gently pull the seahorse out of Junior’s grasp and substitute a brightly colored teething ring that was a current favorite.

All the books said not to let infants chew on stuffed animals with bead eyes, because the kid could choke if he managed to bite through the threads. But Junior let out a high-pitched wail, shoved the teething ring away, and waved both hands at the seahorse. After only a few moments of hesitation, Steve gave a good firm yank on each of the animal’s black plastic eyeballs. They seemed to be firmly attached, so he relented and gave the toy back. Junior let out a squeal and went to town on the seahorse’s snout again, chomping happily even as he grinned up at Steve.

“We’ll have to keep checking on that to make sure the eyes aren’t getting chewed off. Okay, pal?”

Junior fell quiet right away. While stopped at a traffic light, Steve checked on him in the mirror. He was sound asleep with the seahorse’s face still in his mouth. His mouth worked at it periodically, sucking on it like a pacifier.

While they were still in the city, Steve had to concentrate on traffic and avoiding potholes. It wouldn’t be a pleasant drive if Junior woke up from a huge rut in the road and cried all the way home. But once Steve steered them onto the highway, his mind wandered a bit.

It had been a good day, but Steve felt vaguely dissatisfied. He was jealous of the families he’d seen, particularly Daniel, Eddie, and Chloe. Maybe next time he’d ask Bucky to come along. He was part of the family. Steve had thought about inviting him—they could have gone earlier in the week when Bucky was home rather than waiting until he was on a mission—but didn’t want him to feel pressured to give up his days off to do stuff with Junior.

Maybe it was time to think about dating again, though the thought made Steve groan out loud. Everything would be easier if he and Bucky were into fellas. Junior already loved Bucky, and so did Steve, obviously—even if it was in a different way. Steve laughed silently. He couldn’t imagine kissing Bucky like Daniel and Eddie.

But all of a sudden, Steve _was_ imagining it. And not the simple, affectionate kiss he’d seen between Daniel and Eddie—the real thing.

Bucky’s lips. His strong body.

The car in front of Steve’s stopped suddenly, forcing Steve to slam on the brakes. He eyed the rearview mirror to make sure the truck behind him was stopping too, then checked to make sure Junior had slept through it all.

Once the traffic crisis had passed, he allowed himself to think about the shocking, vivid image that had popped into his head.

Where the hell had that come from?

Even more surprising was the fact that Steve had to reach down and adjust his jeans at the crotch.

He pushed it all out of his head. It was the power of suggestion, that was all. Seeing Daniel and Eddie together—and happy—had just set Steve on a strange train of thought. He hadn’t even thought about sex since he broke up with Sharon, much less since Junior was born. What with getting up in the middle of the night and the endless loads of laundry—everything had revolved around Junior, and Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way. But now that things were settling down—Junior sleeping really well at night and on a more regular schedule during the day—apparently Steve’s libido had decided to make itself heard.

It wasn’t a big deal, Steve told himself. Junior would be worn out tonight after the long day, even after his nap in the car. After dinner, Steve would put Junior in his bath and get him to bed early. Then he’d take a long, hot shower and . . . take care of the problem.

The traffic still hadn’t moved. Steve pulled out his phone to check the map, ignoring the way the denim pulled tight over his still half-hard dick when he stuck his hand in his pocket. There was an accident ahead on 295. He could get off the highway and go around, but that might end up taking longer than just waiting. He knew he should have taken 95 instead, but he liked the older roads better, the stone overpasses and the more human scale of them. 95 had five and six lanes in places, and there was always some idiot zipping by at 85 miles an hour.

Steve sighed. He couldn’t remember exactly what time Bucky was supposed to be home that night. Maybe he should text to let him know they were stuck in traffic? But just thinking of Bucky made Steve’s face flame hot.

This was ridiculous. It was _crazy_. A person didn’t suddenly decide to get the hots for their best friend. Not after knowing each other for a lifetime.

Still, Steve was relieved that the traffic was slow if it meant having a little longer to recover before he had to face Bucky.

 

❤

Natasha had convinced Bucky he needed to watch a movie called _Back to the Future_ , but since no one knew, nor ever would know, exactly where Natasha lived, she had invited herself over to his and Steve’s apartment to watch it.

“Hey,” Bucky called to Steve as he walked in the door. “Nat’s coming over soon. Do you want to order pizza or something?”

Steve appeared at the kitchen door. “I already started cooking dinner.” He looked flustered, which seemed strange to Bucky. Steve was normally happy to have Natasha over, any time. And he’d always said Bucky could invite over anyone he liked, but maybe that was different now.

“I could tell her to come over another time,” Bucky said.

“No, there’s enough. Why is she coming over?”

“She wants to show me a movie. Sorry, Steve, if it’s a bad time—”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry.” He walked back into the kitchen and Bucky followed.

Cap Junior was sitting in his high chair and his face lit up when he saw Bucky. He was already in his pajamas. Bright green ones, from Bruce. “Hey buddy,” Bucky said, tickling him under the chin. There was an array of small stuffed animals on the floor around him so Bucky leaned over to pick them up. “What’s this? Is this a seahorse? Did you get this at the aquarium today?” Cap Junior giggled, kicked his legs, and grabbed for the toy.

“Do you need help with the dinner, Steve?” Bucky asked. He absentmindedly ran his hand over the soft tuft of hair on Cap Junior’s head.

Steve didn’t turn from the stove. “No, I got it under control.” His voice sounded tense though. Bucky could see his shoulders were tense too.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. He moved closer to the stove.

“Of course.” He continued stirring the boiling macaroni.

“How was the aquarium?”

“Good.”

“Did Cap Junior like it?”

“Yes.”

Steve had never been a huge talker but jeez, what was up with him? Bucky decided to let it go, for now. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower then.”

“Okay.”

He took a long shower. He always took longer than he intended to, but it was the first time in his life he’d been able to take as long as he liked. He couldn’t before the war, and certainly not with Hydra. He looked pink when he got out too because he always had the temperature just a little too hot. He put on sweatpants and a T-shirt and when he walked back into the kitchen, Natasha was already there. She sat at the table feeding Cap Junior his dinner while Steve served up their mac n’ cheese.

“You took a long time,” she said. She looked at his arm. “What were you doing?”

He grinned. “Not that.”

They both turned to look and see what the sudden clanging sound was coming from Steve’s direction. He’d dropped the serving spoon he was using on the floor. “Sorry, sorry.”

Bucky got some paper towels and the cleaning spray while Steve got out another spoon. Bucky glanced at Natasha who had a raised eyebrow. He shrugged.

Steve was very quiet at dinner. He mostly only spoke to Cap Junior. He was very focused on him, playing with the stuffed toys, feeding him bits of cheese sauce—when he wasn’t shoveling his own dinner down. It was almost like he was ignoring Bucky and Natasha. He got up before they were finished and started doing the dishes. When Bucky got up to help him, he tried to shoo him away. “It’s fine. You go watch the movie.”

“We’ll get it done faster with the two of us.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay, I’ll put Cap Junior to bed then.”

Steve looked up, opening his mouth to protest but Bucky already had the baby on his hip. “Come on, it’s bedtime for you and your seahorse.” He handed the stuffed toy to Cap Junior who pushed it into Bucky’s face. It was soggy from being chewed on. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled by the fuzz.

He changed Cap Junior’s diaper—which he’d gotten used to but still rushed through—and read him a quick story. Despite being wide awake only a few minutes ago, he was asleep almost instantly. He must’ve been worn out by the excitement he’d had that day.

When Bucky arrived in the living room Natasha had already claimed the armchair, so Steve was sitting on the couch. Bucky plunked down beside him and Steve shuffled away, as close to the end as he could get. It was unusual for a guy who sometimes laid his feet across Bucky’s lap when they were watching TV. But he’d been acting weird all night.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Steve replied, and stared determinedly at the screen. About five minutes into the movie he jumped up, saying he’d heard Cap Junior cry out.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Natasha said. Bucky hadn’t either, and he suspected neither had Steve.

Steve didn’t return for half an hour, and it was only to tell them he was going to bed. Bucky tried not to worry about it too much and let himself enjoy the movie, but once it was over and he’d said goodnight to Natasha, he was worrying again. He hesitated around Steve’s closed bedroom door, he lifted his arm up several times, intending to knock but never actually doing it. Instead, he went in to check on Cap Junior. He was still sound asleep. He probably had been ever since Bucky put him down. Bucky couldn’t help watching him sleep for a few moments. It was the sweetest, most peaceful thing he’d ever seen. His heart swelled. “Damn you, Rogers fellas,” he whispered.

 

❤

The next day Bucky was glad to see he was up before Steve. He put the present he’d wrapped the night before on the table at the place Steve usually sat and started frying some bacon and scrambling eggs. He was concerned Steve wouldn’t come out of his room while the breakfast was still hot, but Steve had never been able to resist the smell of bacon.

He walked in with Cap Junior in his arms, who was wearing a violet colored T-shirt and clutching his seahorse possessively. “Mornin’,” he nodded at Bucky. He put Cap Junior in his high chair and picked up the parcel.

“What’s this?”

“Why don’t you read the card,” Bucky said. He had difficulty keeping the smile off his face.

Steve opened the envelope sitting on top of the parcel and read the card aloud. “To Daddy. Happy Father’s day, punk. Love Cap Junior.” He laughed and looked at the baby, “Who’re you calling punk?”

Cap Junior looked up at him with wide eyes. “Ppb,” he said.

Steve looked at Bucky with a huge grin. “Is it really Father’s Day?”

“They’ve been advertising it all week on TV.”

He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Bucky suddenly felt embarrassed that he’d noticed something like that when Steve hadn’t. But he’d always been way too aware of anything to do with Steve. That was his problem. “Open the present,” Bucky urged, grateful to have Steve looking back down at the table.

He started carefully unwrapping the starry blue paper. “What did you get me, little guy?” he said to Cap Junior, who gave him a puzzled look in response.

He unfolded a blue T-shirt and held it up. “Oh my God.” The T-shirt had a graphic of Steve in his original Captain America outfit with the words _#1 Dad_ underneath it. Bucky laughed.

Steve stared at Bucky before shaking his head and laughing. “Where did you _find_ this?”

“On the Internet. They have a lot of Captain America stuff on there. Well, Steve Rogers stuff, I guess.”

“Buck, this is. . . . I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I didn’t do anything. It was Cap Junior.” Bucky said, pointing at the confused baby.

Steve held the shirt up to his chest and turned to Cap Junior. “What do you think?” Cap Junior grinned and slammed his hand down on the tray of his high chair. Steve turned back to Bucky. “I think he likes it.”

“I got it two sizes too small, so it would fit to your liking.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I thought you said Junior got it for me.”

“Well, he _asked_ me to do it for him. He doesn’t have the dexterity for using the internet yet.” Steve laughed and Bucky felt maybe now he could broach the subject of last night. “So you’re feeling better then? You were acting really weird last night. Are you mad at Nat or something?”

“No, of course not,” Steve said, glancing away.

“Are you mad at me?”

His head jerked back. “No! It was just a long day yesterday.”

It didn’t seem like that’s all it was, but Bucky could tell Steve didn’t want to elaborate. “But you had a good time, right?” he asked. “Looking at the seahorses?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. We had a good time.”

“Maybe next time I could go with you.”

“I’d like that,” Steve said quietly. He stared at Bucky for a moment, then shook his head slightly and looked at Cap Junior. “I mean, Junior would like it. We both would.”

“Okay then, but only if you wear that shirt.”

 

❤

Steve felt sheepish when Bucky walked into the kitchen and did a double-take at the sight of Junior strapped into his highchair, his hands, arms, and most of the lower half of his face covered in paint. He couldn’t even figure out what embarrassed him more: Bucky catching him at trying to turn Junior into an artist when he couldn’t really even feed himself yet, or the visceral awareness of Bucky’s body that had stuck with him ever since he got back from the aquarium a few days before.

Luckily Junior was acting cute enough to draw Bucky’s attention, letting out a long string of happy gurgles and holding his paint-covered arms up over his head in enthusiastic greeting.

“Are you crazy?” Bucky laughed. “Finger painting? At his age?”

“I just want him to learn that it’s fun,” Steve said. “The books say it’s a good tactile activity. And I know he’ll be a mess—” “He’s already a mess,” Bucky interjected. Steve shrugged. “He’ll need a bath anyway. And it’s nontoxic.” Dodging Junior’s sticky hands, Bucky leaned down to the look at the paper Steve had taped to the highchair tray. The picture was a just a streaky smear of color across the page. Junior slapped one hand in the paint, giggling with delight.

“This must be his greenish-brownish-gray period,” Bucky said with a grin.

Steve chuckled, thankful that Bucky was too distracted by Junior to notice that the laughter was forced. Bucky was too close, his leg pressing against Steve’s as he settled into the next chair. Even that innocent contact was making Steve’s neck and cheeks feel warm.

Was this really not going to go away?

Over and over again, Steve had dragged his gaze away from the line of Bucky’s neck, the curve of his lips, the way his sweats clung to his thighs and ass after a workout. But every time, if Steve managed to direct his mind down more appropriate paths, other less-than-helpful thoughts encroached: how helpful Bucky was with Junior, how well he and Steve had always gotten along, how comfortable they were together. It was all dangerous.

“ _Steve_.” It was obvious from the insistence in Bucky’s voice that it wasn’t the first time he’d try to get Steve’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“I think he needs another sheet of paper. This one’s starting to tear. It’s soaked through.”

“Yeah?” Steve shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve stood, crossed to the counter where he’d left his large sketchpad, and tore off another blank page. Bucky had started to peel off the tape holding Junior’s first masterpiece to his tray, and he got a little too close, giving Junior an opening to grab the long sleeve of his T-shirt.

“Hey, don’t—” Bucky pulled back—too late—and looked down at the blotches of murky paint staining his sleeve. “Oh, great.”

“It’s just acrylic,” Steve said, rushing forward. “It’ll probably come out if we wash it right away.”

As Bucky rose from his chair, he was already pulling his shirt off over his head, giving Steve a broad view of his bare chest. Steve froze. Bucky ran right into him, and Steve put his hands up reflexively, gasping when one hand settled over Bucky’s ribs.

“Make way, will you?” Bucky said. “I want to wash this real quick.”

“Yeah, right, of course.” Steve took a few stumbling steps backward, desperate to put some space between his hands and all that warm skin.

Junior shouted happily. Steve turned to him, grateful for the distraction, and saw that he now had paint halfway up the right side of his head, sticking his hair together in clumps.

Steve reached for the highchair’s seatbelt. “I think maybe you’ve had enough painting for today.” He carried Junior straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind him so that Bucky wouldn’t see his flaming red face.

 

❤

Junior had been sleeping great, so Steve was surprised to be awakened around three in the morning by miserable screams. Steve was lifting Junior out of his bed when Bucky came into the room, his hair a wreck.

“He okay?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I just woke up to him crying.”

“Should I get a bottle?” Bucky offered. “It doesn’t sound like he’s hungry.”

“But it’s worth a try,” Steve said. “Do you mind?”

Bucky was already heading toward the kitchen. Steve snuggled Junior up and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, but he just grabbed onto Steve’s T-shirt and sobbed.

“What’s the matter, pal? You got a tummy ache?” Steve tried to feel his forehead, but Junior turned his face away and screamed louder. “Okay. It’s okay. Bucky will be back soon.” But Junior wouldn’t take the bottle either, when Bucky brought it.

“Will you take him?” Steve asked. “I’m gonna check the books.”

Bucky didn’t answer, but he reached out and took Junior from Steve. He rested his chin on top of Junior’s head and hummed, though Steve wasn’t sure Junior would be able to hear over his own cries.

Steve dashed out the living room, stubbing his toe on the coffee table before he was able to get to the shelves where he kept the parenting books. He grabbed the fattest one and rushed back to the nursery. After a quick pat to Junior’s bottom—reassuring to Steve even if Junior didn’t seem to notice—he flipped to the chapters on six-month milestones.

“Maybe he’s teething,” Steve said. “But the book says most kids just get fussy, not crying liked that. Does he have a fever?”

“Why would he have a fever?” Bucky asked, gently pressing the back of his hand to Junior’s forehead.

Steve skimmed the page. “It says here teething can cause inflammation in the gums.” When Steve looked up, Bucky was cradling the back of Junior’s neck with his hand, and Steve remembered Bucky doing the same to him back when they were kids and he had a temperature.

“I think he’s just hot from crying,” Bucky said. “I don’t think it’s really a fever.” He carried Junior over to the dresser and laid him down on the changing pad. He switched on the light, unsnapped Junior’s pajamas, and leaned down to peer at his tummy. “I think he’s got a rash.”

“What?” Steve crossed the room in two quick strides to examine Junior’s skin. Bucky was right: there were tiny red bumps all over his chest and stomach and under his arms. Steve peeked inside his diaper, but it was dry, and there was no rash down there, so he closed it up. He looked up at Bucky, trying not to panic. “Let me see what the book says about rashes.” But none of the descriptions of common childhood rashes really fit.

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital,” Steve said as he flipped frantically through the pages.

“I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital.”

“But this isn’t in the book!”

“Steve, he’s fine. Look.”

Steve looked up. While he’d been reading, Bucky had substituted Junior’s pajamas with a T-shirt and grabbed his seahorse from the bin on the shelf for him to hold—he was already chewing on it. Though his face was still red and wet with tears, he was starting to quiet down, letting out only the occasional unhappy hiccup around the toy’s snout instead of full-blown wails.

“I think maybe he was just hot,” Bucky said.

“You really think that’s all it was? The way he was screaming?”

Bucky shrugged. “He was sweaty, not feverish. Could be heat rash on his chest.”

Steve bit his lip. He felt stupid for panicking.

“Hey, c’mon. He’s okay. Let’s get him back to sleep.”

“What about the rash?”

“If it’s still there in the morning, you can call the doctor.” Bucky stepped close and moved as if to hand Junior to Steve, but he’d already snuggled into Bucky’s chest, and his eyelids were drooping. “You want me to just keep him?” Bucky whispered. “I’ll lay him down once he’s drifted off.”

Steve nodded, then slumped against the wall, still feeling foolish. Junior really did seem fine now. At least Bucky had kept his head. Maybe because he had more practice, taking care of Steve all those times he got sick.

Bucky rocked gently from foot to foot until Junior was down for the count. Watching them, Steve’s throat felt tight. Maybe it was just relief after the panic of waking up to Junior crying like that, but Steve didn’t really think so. It was seeing Bucky and Junior together that did it—the two people he loved best in the world. His family.

Steve almost wanted to tell Bucky how he’d been thinking about him lately. It seemed like lying to want to kiss Bucky, to wonder what it would be like to touch him, while acting like nothing had changed. But what if the very idea of their relationship evolving into something like that shocked Bucky? What if Steve confessed and Bucky was disgusted? Or laughed it off? Steve didn’t really think Bucky would hate him forever or anything like that, but things could get uncomfortable between them. What if it was enough to make Bucky want to move out?

Bucky walked to the crib and carefully lowered Junior into it. He barely stirred—just let out a sweet little sigh as he settled down onto the mattress. Steve came to stand next to Bucky. Junior was still sucking on the seahorse’s face.

“I usually don’t let him sleep with that,” Steve whispered. “The eyes—”

“The eyes are fine,” Bucky whispered back. “You check ‘em all the time.”

Steve looked at Junior’s chubby bare legs. “What if he gets cold?”

“He won’t get cold. It’s practically summer.” Bucky fetched a blanket from the dresser. “Here, we can put this over him.”

Steve resisted the urge to point out that all the advice books say not to put blankets in the crib—babies could smother or strangle in loose bedding. It seemed pretty unlikely that the light receiving blanket Bucky’d draped over Junior’s legs could really be a danger.

“I think you gotta stop worrying about the books,” Bucky said. “You’re doing great.”

The words were a comfort, but as Bucky spoke he put a reassuring hand on Steve’s lower back. The warmth of Bucky’s hand, and him standing so close—it sent a pulse of desire through Steve’s body. Before he could stop himself, he turned to face Bucky, who looked up at him, puzzled.

Steve wanted to trace the line of Bucky’s perfect lips with his finger. He wanted to kiss him—slowly, gently. And then not so gently. He wanted to show Bucky how good it could be—at least, Steve thought it would be good. How could it be anything but great when they knew each other so well?

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

They stared at one another. Bucky’s eyes were wary.

Steve wanted to go for it, but he still had too many questions spinning around in his head. He should wait until he was really sure.

“When’s your next day off?”

“What?” Bucky averted his gaze. “Oh, it’s Thursday. I leave tomorrow, and I’ll get back really late Wednesday night.”

“Do you want to go to the aquarium with me and Cap Junior?”

A delighted smile spread over Bucky’s face, eclipsing all of the confusion. “You just called him Cap Junior.”

Steve thought about it. “I did?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I’m glad you find that so funny,” Steve said. “Do you want to go to the aquarium or not?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “I do.”

 

❤

The whole time Bucky was away, Steve tried to figure out what to do. Sometimes he was able to convince himself it was worth a shot. He should just tell Bucky the truth and ask him what he thought about it. Or better yet, he could just kiss him. It might make things awkward for a while if Bucky didn’t like it, but they’d known each other too long for something like a kiss to get in the way of being friends.

But what if he was wrong about that? Steve couldn’t stand it if he pushed Bucky away by trying for something like that when the life they had was so good. Junior adored Bucky—he’d be miserable if Bucky didn’t live with them so he could see him every day. And when Steve was honest with himself, he knew he’d be miserable too. He’d rather have Bucky with them than risk everything for a chance at more, even if he was pretty sure it would be fantastic.

That was another big problem. He was _pretty sure_ , but he wouldn’t be _completely_ sure until he tried it. What if Steve worked up enough nerve to kiss Bucky and Bucky went for it but Steve didn’t like it as much as he thought?

So Steve decided he would test himself a little. When Bucky got back and they went to the aquarium, he would let himself be a little more affectionate than usual. That way, he could see how Bucky responded and also maybe gauge his own reaction. He’d just have to try to be subtle about it. Subtlety wasn’t exactly Steve’s strong suit, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. If Bucky figured out what he was doing, at least it would bring everything out into the open.

When Bucky got home Wednesday night, it was so late Steve was in bed, and Bucky went straight to bed himself after a shower. When Steve woke up in the morning, Bucky and Junior were already in the kitchen. Junior was strapped into his highchair with his stuffed seahorse clutched in one fist.

Bucky gave Steve a cheerful grin from over by the stove. “Morning. Cap Junior got up happy today. I heard him talking to his little friend there, so I went in to get him so you could sleep in a little.”

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve leaned down to kiss the top of Junior’s head. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m making eggs. You want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said. “Can I help?”

“You can pour the coffee.”

Steve poured two big mugs. Then he took a bracing gulp of his own before approaching Bucky. He was determined to start his plan of experimental affectionate gestures as soon as possible, so as he handed Bucky his cup, he stood a little closer than normal and let his hand briefly rest on Bucky’s back. Bucky glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye. His expression told Steve he definitely noticed the increased proximity, though he didn’t seem bothered, and he didn’t comment on it.

Steve let Junior try to eat on his own, picking up slippery bits of scrambled egg with his fingers, though he got more on his face and in his hair than in his mouth. After a quick cleanup, Steve packed a bag, grabbed the baby carrier, and led the way to the car.

They arrived at the aquarium later than last time, but that turned out to be a good thing. By the time they parked in a garage across the street and made it inside, the crowd had cleared a bit from the Australia section, so they were able to see the parts that Steve and Junior had missed on their previous visit when it had gotten so packed.

Junior clearly remembered the bubble tubes—he started waving his arms and kicking his feet the moment he saw them. Bucky was holding him and had no idea why he was getting so excited.

“Wait till you see this,” Steve said. “He loved this last time.”

Junior laughed just as hard at the rising bubbles as he had before, and this time, with Bucky holding him, Steve was able to film the whole thing. He played it back while Junior was still giggling and banging on the tubes, and the video turned out great. Even better with Bucky there too, laughing almost as much as Junior.

 _Jeez, Bucky’s handsome_ , Steve thought. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know it, but somehow seeing it on the screen made it more obvious. And he was so great with Junior. This was exactly what Steve had been missing on the last aquarium visit—it was a family outing. He’d always wanted this. Not that his mother hadn’t done a great job, but she’d worked so hard. There had never been any extra time or money. Steve had tagged along with Bucky’s family countless times on day trips to the zoo or Coney Island, and he’d always wanted that for himself.

He had it now, but maybe it made him greedy. He wanted more. He wanted Bucky. It was time to push the envelope.

“You ready to move on, buddy?” Bucky asked Junior, who was still happily thumping on the tubes. “Let’s go see some fish.”

Steve moved to stand next to Bucky and put a hand on his shoulder. Junior looked up at Steve and smiled, reaching out. After Steve pulled Junior into his arms, he grabbed Bucky’s hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then led the way to the reef tank. When he peeked back over his shoulder, Bucky looked a little puzzled, but he trotted to catch up, and they paused by the glass railing.

“This is amazing,” Bucky said. “Look at this, it looks like the real thing.”

They stayed in the exhibit for a long time, slowly making their way along the railing as Junior waved his hands at the fish and babbled excitedly.

“There’s the turtle,” Steve said, pointing. “Missing a fin, just like you.”

Bucky flapped both arms to make Junior laugh.

“You look more like a chicken than a turtle,” Steve teased.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Bucky said. He lingered by the tank watching the huge sea turtle make her slow way through the water.

As Steve carried Junior ahead to the next exhibit, Junior reached out with one hand and yelled, “Ba!”

“Is he saying bye to the fish?” Bucky asked. “Are you saying goodbye, pal?”

Junior wiggled in Steve’s arms, then lunged forward, reaching for Bucky. Steve handed him over. After Bucky got Junior situated, his butt tucked in the crook of Bucky’s elbow, Steve slipped his arm around Bucky’s waist, just for a second. Bucky looked up, clearly surprised. After a moment of staring, he looked away, but Steve thought he caught a glimpse of a smile. It was encouraging—maybe Bucky was okay with the extra affection.

Over lunch, Steve introduced a topic he’d been thinking about for a while. He’d figured out what he thought was the perfect name for Junior, but he wanted Bucky’s opinion. He felt stupidly nervous as he watched Bucky take a huge bite of his cheeseburger.

“You know, last time when we were here, I told someone Junior’s name was James.”

Bucky paused, mid-chew, then said, his cheek bulging out, “Why?”

“I couldn’t tell them I’ve been calling him Junior—that he doesn’t really even have a name of his own.”

Bucky shrugged. “Lots of boys are called Junior.”

“Maybe in the thirties.”

Bucky took a sip of water, then grinned.

“But ever since then, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I want to name him James. Officially.”

Bucky’s smile dimmed. “I don’t know, Steve.”

“C’mon, who better to name him after than my best friend?”

“Is that really giving him a name of his own?”

“It’s not like you’re using it,” Steve pointed out.

That comment earned Steve a flash of a smile, but again, it faded quickly, and Bucky looked thoughtful. “James,” Bucky said quietly. “James Rogers.” Then suddenly he gave Steve a broad grin and said. “Okay.”

Steve was instantly suspicious. “Wait a minute, you never give in so easy. What are you—?”

Bucky cut him off. “James Rogers.”

“Yeah?”

“So his initials will be J.R.,” Bucky continued. “J.R. _Junior_.”

Steve groaned.

“C’mon, Steve, we’ve been calling him Cap Junior his whole life now. He knows his name. It’ll confuse him if we start calling him something else.”

“I’m sure he’d figure it out.” Steve thought he should probably be exasperated, but really, it would be fine if they kept calling him Junior. At least until he was old enough to object.

“What do you think, buddy? Do you like James?”

Junior laughed and slapped playfully at Bucky’s arm.

“I think he likes it,” Bucky said.

“That’s pretty much how he reacts every time you talk to him. He loves you.”

Steve had only meant to tease, but Bucky bit his lip and turned his face away.

“He does, you know,” Steve insisted. “He loves you.”

Bucky rested his hand on top of Junior’s head. “I love you too, pal.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say. His hand reached out toward Bucky, coming to rest on his leg. Bucky’s breath caught, and he looked down at Steve’s hand on his thigh, his face unreadable.

“Steve, what—?”

Steve waited, but Bucky didn’t finish the question. “What is it, Buck?”

“Nothing. Let’s go see the rest, huh? Before Cap Junior gets too tired.”

Junior—James—enjoyed himself as they made their way through the rest of the building. _He’s happy as a clam_ , Bucky said. But the joke seemed a little forced, and otherwise both he and Steve were quieter.

 

❤

Of course Junior fell asleep in the car on the way home from the aquarium and woke up cranky—hungry and still tired—when they pulled into a curbside spot near their building. They worked together as if by a plan, Bucky grabbing the backpack Steve had packed with diapers and stuff, then jogging ahead to get the front door open by the time Steve had gotten Junior out of his carseat. Preparing dinner was much the same, everything going like clockwork without any need to discuss. No one would ever be able to read Steve’s mind like Bucky.

“Why don’t you let him play on the floor for a while?” Bucky suggested after they finished eating. “I’ll do the dishes.”

Steve was about to argue and chip in with the clean-up but stopped himself. “Thanks. That’s a good idea. He could use some time to move after being carried around all day. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Bucky waved him away, already clearing the plates from the table, so Steve wiped off Junior’s messy cheeks and chin and lifted him out of his highchair. “You wanna play, buddy?”

“Ba!” Junior shouted.

“Is that a yes?” Steve kissed him on top of his head as he carried him into the living room, set him on the floor on his back, and sat down next to him, cross-legged. “Let’s get some of your toys.”

There was a basket of small stuffed animals and other small toys under the coffee table. Steve pulled out a few and laid them on the floor just out of Junior’s reach so that he’d have to wiggle around a little to get to them.

When Junior spied the ridiculous shark Bucky’d bought for him, he reached for that first, rolling almost all the way over before he managed to grab it. He shoved its tail into his mouth, gurgling happily, and flopped back over onto his back.

“Now that you’ve got your shark you’re not gonna try for anything else, are you?”

Junior gave Steve a gummy smile, then chomped down again on the shark.

“How about your seahorse?” Steve coaxed, picking up the toy. “You like this one too.”

Junior eyed the seahorse speculatively but didn’t let go of the shark. Steve was still trying to get Junior interested in another toy fifteen minutes later when Bucky emerged from the kitchen. Junior immediately dropped the shark and waved his arms in Bucky’s direction, yelling, “Ba!”

“Bucky!”

Bucky crouched down close to Junior. “What?”

“I think he’s saying your name!”

A wistful, happy look appeared on Bucky’s face for a split second before it was replaced by skepticism. “C’mon, Steve, he’s too little for that.” He reached out and tickled Junior’s belly. “Aren’t you, pal?”

“But he said it when we were leaving the kitchen—I bet he was saying goodbye to you. Then he said it when you came in the room.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Bucky insisted as he picked up the shark and poked it into Junior’s ribs, making him giggle. “He’s barely six months old.”

“Some babies start talking at his age.” Steve jumped to his feet and crossed the room to where his parenting books were lined up on the bookshelf. “Usually just mama and dada—” He broke off, not knowing if Bucky would be bothered by the implication that Junior considered him one of his parents, but Bucky didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He was teasing Junior with the shark, pretending it was nibbling on his hands, and then his toes, while Junior laughed hysterically.

A wave of warmth flooded through Steve—a melting mixture of love for Junior, love for Bucky. It had been a perfect day. Not like the last trip to the aquarium, when Steve felt like something was missing. And it wasn’t just that it was easier with another adult around to help—though it was—it was because, with Bucky there, they felt more like a family.

But what Steve was feeling wasn’t completely innocent. What he felt for Bucky wasn’t only because of Junior and the life they’d built, the three of them. He _wanted_ Bucky. And it didn’t seem to be going away. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted him.

Shouldn’t he at least give it a try? The worst that could happen was that Bucky told him he was crazy. It wasn’t like Bucky would get mad about it—Steve couldn’t even imagine that.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?” Bucky was distracted, still playing with Junior.

“Can I—?” Steve didn’t know what to ask. “Would you come here a sec?”

Bucky looked up, clearly puzzled, but he didn’t argue. He handed the shark to a delighted Junior, stood up, and came across the room with a small quizzical smile on his face.

Steve took a deep breath. “I want to try something.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s smile dimmed a little. His eyebrows drew down, but it wasn’t quite a frown. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m not gonna throw up,” Steve said. “I just want to try something, okay? It might seem. . . .”

“It might seem what?”

“A little strange. Or crazy. Or stupid.”

“Okay.” Bucky dragged the word out. He was humoring Steve, but he seemed genuinely amused by Steve’s nervousness. He was in a good mood, so maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster.

But still Steve didn’t move.

“Steve? Just come out and tell me what—”

Steve surged forward and cut him off with a kiss.

There was a terrible moment: Bucky frozen in surprise, his mouth immobile under Steve’s.

But then Bucky came to life under Steve’s hands, pressing close, tilting his head to seal their mouths together more tightly.

When they parted for breath, Steve opened his eyes. Bucky was staring at him, incredulous and hopeful. Relief and happiness almost made Steve laugh out loud. “Maybe not a stupid idea, then, huh?”

“God, _Steve_.” Bucky’s eyes fell shut, and he blindly sought Steve’s mouth. One hand rested on Steve’s lower back, dragging him closer, and the other slid down to grab at Steve’s ass. His tongue teased at Steve’s lips, then parted them to plunge inside. Steve gave in to the kiss, letting Bucky take charge. Bucky shoved even closer, pushing Steve back against the bookshelf, sending a thrill up Steve’s spine.

Bucky’s lips slid down to Steve’s neck as his hand slipped under his shirt, skating over Steve’s ribs. Bucky’s hand on his skin felt even better than he’d dared to imagine—it made him want to touch Bucky too, but before he could muster enough coordination to find the bottom of Bucky’s T-shirt and get a hand up under it, a frustrated squawk sounded from the other side of the room. Steve dragged himself a few inches away from Bucky and looked over his shoulder.

Junior had rolled onto his stomach and was straining with one arm for his stuffed seahorse, which lay on the rug, just out of reach. He wasn’t crying yet, but if they left him there for too long this close to bedtime, his frustration might push him into tears. He’d get fussy, and it would take him a hell of a lot longer to settle down and sleep.

“You gotta get him,” Bucky said, but his arms didn’t loosen from their iron grip around Steve’s waist.

“Yeah,” Steve panted. But he didn’t move. Instead, he shoved aside the neckline of Bucky’s T-shirt and bent to suck at the skin where Bucky’s neck met his shoulder, making Bucky moan. “Sorry,” Steve said. “I gotta—”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Steve shook his head to clear it. “Okay.” He slipped away after one more quick kiss.

Junior looked up as Steve approached. He waved his arm toward the seahorse and babbled angrily until Steve grabbed the toy and set it within his reach. He picked it up with a happy squeal and chewed on the snout. Steve scooped him up, toy and all, and carried him back to where he’d left Bucky, who was slumped against the bookcase. Steve couldn’t resist leaning in for another kiss.

“Should we be doing that in front of him?” Bucky asked. But he was smiling when he said it.

Steve smiled back. “He’s gotta get used to it.”

Bucky’s expression broadened into a grin.

Steve kissed Bucky again, but just as he let his eyes droop closed, Junior smacked him in the face with the soggy seahorse, letting out a pleased-sounding gurgle.

Bucky pulled away and laughed. “Thanks, pal. You’re a big help.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Let’s get him a quick bath, then hope that he settles down easy tonight.”

It took a lot longer than Steve hoped to get Junior to bed, but it was mostly his own fault. He kept stopping to kiss Bucky. To wind an arm around him or cup the back of his neck.

Once Steve wrestled Junior into his pajamas and tucked him into his crib, he quieted quickly. Steve stepped out into the hall and found Bucky waiting right outside Junior’s bedroom door.

“He asleep?” Bucky asked.

“If not, he will be soon.”

Bucky looked just as uncertain as Steve felt, but he reached out and took Steve’s hand. “C’mere.” He reeled Steve in, first kissing him gently, then deepening the kiss. He slid one hand up under Steve’s shirt, around his waist, and up along his spine. With Bucky’s hands on his skin, Steve forgot all about being nervous. He just wanted to see what would happen next.

After a few more lingering kisses, Bucky pulled away to tug at Steve’s T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His hands wandered over Steve’s arms, shoulders, and chest as they came together for more kisses, Bucky gently steering Steve down the hall and toward the living room all the while.

Bucky bent to kiss Steve’s neck, then went lower, his stubble rasping over Steve’s skin as he kissed and licked a trail across Steve’s chest, then sucked at his nipple, which made Steve’s breath catch. When they reached the couch, Bucky pushed at Steve with one hand in the middle of his chest to tip him back. Steve sat down hard, and Bucky climbed right over top of him, straddling his lap and kissing him hard.

Steve’s hands had clutched at Bucky’s hips almost reflexively, but now he let them roam, feeling the lean muscle in Bucky’s thighs, then sliding back up to rub his ass. Bucky moaned and shoved up closer, his hips pushing against Steve’s.

Steve could feel Bucky’s dick, even through two layers of denim.

At first it was a little strange. Not that it was surprising—Steve was rock hard too, had been since Bucky first kissed him in the hall. But Steve hadn’t let himself think about this part of things all that much.

But Steve decided he liked it. Maybe it was because he never felt all that confident with women, but there was something reassuring about having undeniable evidence of how much Bucky wanted him. And when Bucky rocked his hips, rubbing their dicks together through their jeans, Steve’s brain fogged over in a haze of lust. He grabbed Bucky’s hips, grinding up into him, and Bucky groaned.

Steve shoved his hands up the back of Bucky’s shirt, wanting to feel skin, and Bucky pulled away to yank the shirt off over his head. But just as he fell back on Steve with a feral grin, an unhappy cry came from Junior’s room.

They both froze.

The eager tension went out of Bucky’s body, and he started to lean away, but Steve pulled him back. “Wait, maybe he’ll quiet down.”

Bucky looked doubtful, but he waited. They stared at each other.

Junior wasn’t really crying—just fussing. And it barely lasted a minute, Steve was sure. It was probably even less time than that before he started to quiet down. Then there was silence, but still, neither of them moved.

Steve wanted to get things going again, but now that Junior had calmed himself, Steve felt guilty for not going to see what had awakened him. “Babies should learn to soothe themselves. All the books say that.” Steve knew he was trying to convince himself more than Bucky.

Bucky nodded, a frown pulling his eyebrows down.

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He tugged at Bucky’s belt, but instead of pressing close again, Bucky pulled away, crossed the room, and disappeared down the hall.

When Bucky came back, he nodded. “He’s fine. Sound asleep again.”

“Okay.” But that didn’t make Steve feel any less guilty.

“C’mon, Steve, he’s fine. He wasn’t really crying. He probably wasn’t even completely awake.”

Steve knew Bucky was right. Still, it felt selfish to ignore him.

“You said it yourself, the books say it’s good if he learns to settle down on his own.”

“I know.”

“And they say you gotta take time for yourself. Do things you enjoy.”

“You been reading my parenting books?”

Bucky shrugged. Steve could tell he was trying to look casual about it.

“You’re right,” Steve said. “I know you’re right.” He pulled Bucky down for a kiss. “And I think you figured out a few things I enjoy.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, yeah?” He gave Steve a slow sexy smile.

Back when they were kids, Steve had never really understood Bucky’s success in the romance department. Sure, he was handsome. Steve had always known that. But there were plenty of good-looking fellas who didn’t have Bucky’s luck with dames. But when Bucky smiled like that it suddenly made a lot more sense. When he looked straight at you with that smile, it was like he was planning everything he wanted to do to you. It made you desperate to know exactly what his plans were, and then you started to make plans of your own.

Steve’s dick, which hadn’t flagged much even with the interruption, strained up in his jeans, and he tugged Bucky close. The feeling of Bucky’s bare chest against his made his dick jerk again. Maybe Bucky felt it, pressed together like they were, because he pushed up on one arm and looked down at Steve’s crotch with his eyebrow raised.

Then slowly—so slowly Steve thought he wouldn’t be able to stand it—Bucky opened the button of Steve’s fly and pulled down the zipper. He ran one finger through the light trail of hair below Steve’s belly button, then slid his hand inside Steve’s boxers, pushing the fabric aside to pull out his dick.

Bucky’s hand—so warm, slightly rough. In seconds Steve was pushing up into Bucky’s fist, his hips twitching helplessly. Perfect. He was close. God, so close already. He moaned out Bucky’s name, and Bucky’s strokes sped up, his fingers twisting as they reached the tip and squeezing tighter.

It would have been easy to just let go, but Steve didn’t want to keep going without knowing what it was like to touch Bucky, so he opened his eyes and tore at Bucky’s fly to get his pants open. Bucky’s hand stopped moving, and he looked down at Steve with surprise, his mouth open with his heavy breaths. Bucky’s expression turned desperate with desire as Steve tugged his zipper down.

Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky’s face and looked at where his dick was straining at his boxers. There was a damp spot on the cotton. Steve stole a glance upwards—Bucky was biting his lip—then tugged at the elastic of Bucky’s waistband. It was a little daunting—Bucky’s dick, hard and flushed dark pink—but it was now or never. Steve had to know that this would work. He wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s dick and tried a few experimental strokes. It felt good in his hand.

Bucky’s hipped jerked forward, and a groan rumbled out of his throat. Bucky’s head fell back, and Steve pulled him down so he could lick at the pale exposed skin, still working at Bucky’s dick with one hand.

“ _Steve_. God, Steve, you’re—” Bucky broke off and kissed him. His hand worked its way between them, grabbing Steve and pumping him quickly.

Steve tried to keep up, but it was hard to keep his own hand moving when the way Bucky was touching him felt so _good_.

“ _Here_.” Bucky’s voice came out in a frantic whisper. “Here, let me.” He nudged Steve’s hand away and pressed close, wrapping his hand around the both of him.

Just the sight of it—Bucky’s dick held tight against his, looking up to see Bucky’s face intent, his chest heaving—it sent pleasure crashing through Steve’s body. His hands were clamped hard on Bucky’s hips, and he tried to crane up for a kiss as another wave thundered through him, leaving him gasping.

Bucky groaned out Steve’s name, and his free hand gripped the back of Steve’s head, yanking him close for a savage kiss. He pulled his other hand out from between them and thrust his hips against Steve’s stomach once, twice, then Steve felt his dick jerking and the hot flood as he came. He shook as another surge of heat poured over Steve’s skin, then let out a long, slow breath, and leaned down until his forehead was pressed against Steve’s. One hand was still tangled in Steve’s hair.

“ _Steve_.”

Still panting, Steve tipped his chin up for a kiss. Then another.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky for a hug so tight it made Bucky grunt, but he was smiling when Steve finally loosened his hold.

“When did you figure it out?” Bucky said when they inched apart. “That I was in love with you.”

“I didn’t,” Steve admitted. “I didn’t figure that it until I kissed you and you kissed back.”

“But when did you start thinking about it?”

“Last time I went to the aquarium.”

Bucky laughed, pulling away to look down at Steve. “Wait, you started thinking about this the first time you took Cap Junior to the aquarium?”

Steve nodded, then ducked his head to press his lips to Bucky’s neck.

“Okay, so then we go there again today, and you decide to make your move?” Bucky made a funny face. “Do fish get you all hot and bothered?”

Steve breathed out a laugh against Bucky’s skin. “No, it was that family I met. Remember I told you about meeting the family with the adopted daughter? They were both men. A gay couple.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know whether to be jealous or turned on.”

“Stop kidding around,” Steve said, poking Bucky’s ribs. “I just started thinking about how lucky they were to be a family like that. Watching them—they were just like us. Such good friends. So close they were family.”

Bucky gave him a pointed look. “Maybe that should have told you something right there.”

“It did. I realized that the only difference was that they—well, they shared a bed. So then I started thinking about it—thinking about _you_ like that. And I kind of couldn’t stop.”

Bucky’s grin was a mile wide before he leaned down for a kiss. “You don’t have to stop,” he whispered.

Steve wrapped both arms around Bucky’s waist and pulled, tugging Bucky along with him as he tipped sideways onto the couch cushions, wanting to lie with Bucky, side by side. But the couch was too narrow. Their knees knocked together, and even after Steve tucked one arm under Bucky’s head, they were dangerously close to falling off the edge.

“We could go to bed,” Bucky said. “We’ve got two nice, big beds down the hall and we’re out here on the sofa.”

“Two beds?” Steve said, surprised. “Do we need two? I thought we’d share.”

Bucky was already pulling away. “I just mean either of them would be more comfortable than this.” He reached out to give Steve a hand and pull him up off the couch, then led the way down the hall. After a brief pause by Junior’s door—all was quiet—they made their way to Steve’s room.

“This reminds me of sleeping over at your place when we were kids.” Steve shoved his jeans down and tossed them into the hamper. “Is that stupid?”

Bucky crossed the room and wrapped one arm around Steve’s waist. “Not stupid. Though I don’t remember there being this much kissing before.”

Steve smiled, bent his head for a kiss, then pulled away to strip off his boxers.

“Or this much of you naked,” Bucky added.

“C’mon, you’ve seen me naked a million times.”

Bucky’s eyebrows slid upwards as he pressed close. “But I’ve never been able to touch you.” His hand skimmed over Steve’s ribs. It tickled even though it felt nice.

“Wait a sec.” Steve used his boxers to wipe up the sticky mess on his stomach. Usually that kind of thing would have embarrassed him with someone watching as closely as Bucky was, but it was _Bucky_. His teasing smirk was mostly familiar—everything about him was familiar—so Steve couldn’t feel embarrassed.

“Here, gimme that.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s boxers to wipe off his own belly. He dropped the damp fabric on the floor, then quickly peeled off his clothes.

Suddenly, Steve understood what Bucky’d meant. He’d seen Bucky naked and never thought about it much, but now that he’d kissed him, now that he’d touched him. . . .

Bucky was watching him, clearly amused. “Time for bed?”

Steve grinned and nodded. As soon as he climbed in bed, Bucky was there—half lying on top of him, sucking at his earlobe and stroking down his side, over his hip, and along his thigh.

“ _Bucky_.”

Bucky stilled. “What?”

“You’re going to get me going again if you keep doing that.”

Bucky lifted his head to give Steve a look that said, clear as day, _That’s the whole point, you idiot_. Steve laughed. Bucky tucked his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and gave him a few nibbling kisses.

This was going to work. Nothing had really changed. Everything else was still there—the friendship and the teasing and the long history together. Now, they just got to have fun in one more way. And if that first rushed encounter on the couch was any indication they’d be just fine in that department.

 _More than fine_. Steve thought as Bucky’s lips trailed back up toward his ear. _Infinitely more than fine_.

 

❤

Bucky had been sleeping in Steve’s bedroom for months, so they decided he should just move all his stuff in there too. They pushed his dresser down the hall into Steve’s room, then he collected everything from his closet and dumped it on Steve’s bed. He went through it all and put it away in Steve’s closet while Steve organized Bucky’s old room into his new art studio. With Cap Junior getting a little older, Steve was starting to find more time to work on his art.

Bucky couldn’t believe how perfectly everything had worked out. Not only were he and Steve together, but with Cap Junior, their apartment, his job—everything was perfect. He knew if he could go back in time and tell his twenty-five-year-old self this was what his life would be like after the war—albeit a _very_ long time after—he never would have believed he could have it. In fact, if he went back only a year ago, his past self then probably wouldn’t have believed it either.

He’d never been so completely happy.

There was plenty of space in Steve’s closet for Bucky’s clothes, but he had a box of gear he wanted to store away from curious baby hands, so he looked up and found an empty space on the top shelf. He lifted it up and pushed it in, but it wouldn’t fit all the way. It kept bouncing against something soft. “What the hell.” He pulled the box out and peered in.

There were piles of some kind of fabric pushed to the back of the shelf. He reached in and grabbed a handful. They were some of the baby dresses Steve had bought when he’d thought he was going to have a girl. He’d told Bucky he’d given all that stuff away. Not all of it, apparently. Bucky stuck his hand back in and pulled out the remaining baby clothes. He took them back into the bedroom and put them on the bed, then easily slotted his box into the empty space.

He went back to folding some clean laundry, and only a moment later he heard Steve walking down the hall. Steve came up behind him, wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, and rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky smiled. He loved the fluttering of surprise he got every time Steve touched him this way.

“Junior’s having a nap. Maybe we should take a break too,” Steve said in a low voice. He pushed his hips forward.

Bucky shivered, but didn’t let Steve distract him. “Steve?”

“Mmm.” Even though he couldn’t see Steve’s face he could picture the languid and content smile on it.

“What are these?” He reached over and picked up one of the crumpled dresses. He recognized the strawberry pattern.

Steve had been lightly caressing Bucky’s belly, but stopped. “Oh. Um. I guess I saved a few things. I thought maybe in the future . . . I mean, James might like a sister?”

“Oh,” Bucky said. He picked up a shirt and began folding it. “Yeah. I think he would.”

Steve seemed to relax when Bucky said that. He pulled one of his arms away from Bucky’s waist and Bucky felt him push the collar of his T-shirt aside and kiss his neck. His stomach burst into butterflies. “Marry me,” he said. It just fell from his lips without any warning, but when his brain caught up to what had happened, he knew he’d meant what he’d said.

Steve’s arm tightened across Bucky’s torso, holding him close. “Okay.”

Bucky twisted away so he could turn around and face Steve. “Really? You mean it?”

Steve smiled, and Bucky easily slipped into his embrace. “Yes,” he said. He leaned in for a kiss and Bucky accepted, quickly trying to urge Steve’s lips open with his tongue, but Steve stopped him by pushing at his chest. Bucky gave him a quizzical look and Steve looked down. “And, um. I’ve been thinking. You don’t have to, please don’t feel like you need to take any more responsibility for James if, I mean, when we get married.” He paused and gave Bucky a dopey smile, then seemed to remember what he’d been trying to say. “You can say no, and it won’t change _anything_ between us, I promise.”

“Spit it out, Steve,” Bucky said, holding back a chuckle.

“Would you want to adopt James? So you can be his father too? Officially.”

Bucky was speechless. He hadn’t even noticed how easily he’d fallen into the role of parent, but apparently Steve had. A minute went by, and Bucky could see panic rising in Steve’s eyes. He forced himself to speak. “How could you think I would ever say no to that?” he said. He was so overwhelmed it made his voice gravelly.

Steve’s anxious frown slowly turned into a smile. “So . . . that’s a yes?”

Bucky grinned. “You know I love that kid. Yes.” Steve kissed him again, this time not holding back. “And it means you’ll have to call me daddy,” Bucky mumbled against his lips.

Steve pulled away and made a face. “That is never happening.” Bucky laughed. He watched curiously as Steve walked over the closet and rummaged around for something. He emerged holding what looked like a folded up black T-shirt.

“What’s that?”

“I’m glad you said yes because I got you something,” Steve said. “I had it made especially.” He unfolded it to reveal a T-shirt with Bucky’s picture on it, in his Captain America gear, and the lettering _#1 Dad_.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, clutching his stomach. “Oh my God. You sap. I love it.”

Steve grinned. “Now you can’t make me wear mine without you wearing yours too.”

“Are you kidding? You’re never gonna to be able to get it off me. In fact,” he pulled off the shirt he was wearing, “I’m going to put it on right now.”

“Wait,” Steve said.

Bucky had been reaching for the new shirt but he let his arm drop. “What?”

Steve’s eyes roamed over his chest. “Leave it off for a while.” Bucky smirked. “Junior won’t be awake for another hour probably,” Steve said.

“A whole hour?” Bucky said. “There’s a lot we can do in an hour.”

“I know.” He stepped closer, leaned forward to kiss Bucky, and didn’t stop until he had pushed Bucky back onto the bed, messing up the laundry Bucky had been folding. Bucky only caught his breath when Steve moved to his neck and resumed the kissing he had started earlier. With his heart pounding, like it did every time they did this, Bucky moved his hands to Steve’s waist and pushed his hips up, moaning.

Steve pulled away to look down at him, and Bucky’s moans turned into a groan of frustration. “Steve, are you going to let me get off this afternoon or not?”

“I just realized something,” Steve said. “We did this all out of order, didn’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—baby first, then we got together, now. . . .”

“Well, you’re definitely not as old fashioned as everyone seems to think you are,” Bucky said with a laugh.

Steve smiled. “I know, it’s just . . . it’s different. How it turned out for us. I don’t know.” He ran his hand through Bucky’s hair.

He leaned down to kiss him, but Bucky laughed again. He stared up into Steve’s blue eyes. “I guess this is just what seahorses do.”

 

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Seahorses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874312) by [CapCarterandSarge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapCarterandSarge/pseuds/CapCarterandSarge)




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